Pregnant at Eighteen
by coffee89
Summary: Instead of Izzie getting pregnant at sixteen, Meredith gets pregnant at eighteen.Read and Review!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Everything tells me that it is a very, very bad idea to start a story right now. Especially when I'm already working on one and I have, like no time. But, I have this cool idea and I had to write it, despite the lack of time and the other story. So here it is, for you to review. Just don't expect anything more for a couple of days…(unless you review A LOT!!!!) **

**P.S. The pairing isn't who you think it is so don't get mad when you find out….**

They were dancing. It was slow and close and gentle; her hips swaying with his, her arms slipping up and around his neck while the couples surrounding them did the same. It was dark, so dark that it was impossible to notice that she had pink hair and he had brown, impossible to notice that one of his eyes was a slightly darker shade of blue than the other.

Everyone assumed they'd be together forever, that they'd be dancing like this forever. They weren't the most popular, but it was accepted that they were the class' golden couple. They were the ones who were supposed to show everyone else what love was like. They were the ones who were supposed to give other couples something to look forward to. They were perfect for each other, and no one wanted to believe that it would eventually end, least of all the two eighteen-year-old seniors on the dance floor of their last prom.

It scared her sometimes, how much she loved him. They had been inseparable since they'd met freshman year, joined at the hip for school dances, parties, football games. She loved so many of the little things; the way he shook his hair out of his eyes, the way he looked when he was waiting for her after school, propped up against his car with light reflecting off his eyes, the way he loved her. It was the little things that made dancing with him so incredible. He inclined his head towards hers as if ready to say something but hesitated instead, pulling her closer. She had kicked her shoes off after the first song and was now dancing bare-foot, balancing on the balls of her feet to reach him. He was bending down to meet her half-way, although he knew his back would probably be sore the next day; anything for her.

The song ended and she pulled away, already sporting a wide grin as low, rumbling bass poured through the speakers. He watched her, transfixed as she joined the crowd, jumping with them in a steady, pulsing rhythm. He moved too, happy to follow her, happy to be here with her. Sweat beaded down their arms, and she glanced back at him for a second, a moment, moving so close that he wondered where he stopped and she started. The strap of her dress slipped, and he couldn't look away from the curve of her shoulder. Their eyes locked and he gulped back the overwhelming need to kiss her. Leaning close, he shouted above the screaming crowd.

"I need some air."

She nodded, but when he turned to leave she followed, grasping the ends of her dress with one hand and taking off after him. Her bare feet slapped against the cement outside in a dull, constant pattern as she caught up with him.

"What's wrong?" She asked once they had recovered their breath and were sitting on a stone wall off to the left of the entrance, their legs swinging back and forth in lazy, sluggish circles. He didn't bother answering, just pulled her closer, pressing his lips to hers roughly. She gave in for a moment before pulling away gently, reaching up to lay a small hand on his cheek.

"Later," she promised, ignoring his pout, "I want to stay for the _whole _dance this time."

"Now," he murmured, dangerously close to begging, his eyes closing as he bent forward, placing small, wet kisses down her neck while she struggled for control.

"Listen, there's something…something I have to tell you," she managed through gulps of air.

Something about her voice, something about the way she was addressing him, made him reluctantly pull away. He turned back ahead, petulantly returning to his lazy, sluggish leg circles. She fiddled nervously with the chain around her neck, weaving it in and out between her fingers.

"Remember- I- We…"

He glanced at her, concern flooding his expression and brows furrowed with curiosity. She rambled when she was nervous, she stuttered when something was wrong.

"What's wrong?"

"We're-I'm…"

"Meredith…"

"I'm…I'm pregnant."

His legs stopped circling, but she couldn't pull her fingers away from her necklace. She bit her lip, avoiding his eyes and pinching her eyes shut in anticipation. Silence, endless, uncomfortable silence. A silence that, in their three years together, had never made an appearance before this. They could hear the noise from inside, the laughing, screaming, and occasional crying from a dissatisfied prom go-er.

"When did you find out?" He asked, mouth set in a firm line and his voice adopting a strange, hollow tone.

"A week ago," she answered weakly, afraid of his lack of reaction. He should be throwing things, yelling, _something_. "I wanted to go through prom without telling you…"

He nods; somehow, some way able to understand. Tears prick her eyes, barely there, only for him to notice. He wants to rub them away with his thumb, wants to go back to prom, to dance with her like they were a couple of minutes ago, her hips swaying slow and close and gentle with his. He wants to, but he knows he can't. This is big, monumentally big, big for people who weren't still in high school. Big for people who won't be worrying about college next year. Big for people who didn't have to deal with overbearing, disappointed mothers who wouldn't, under any circumstances, approve. He wants to react for her sake, wants to reassure things that things _will_ be okay, that things will eventually get back to normal, although they're still in high school and have to deal with college soon, and Meredith _does _have an overbearing, disappointed mother who won't, under any circumstances, approve.

It's as dark as it was on the dance floor, a lone street lamp a few feet ahead the only thing faintly illuminating their features. She couldn't see his expression, couldn't see if he was taking this well, or if he was terrified, or if he was still digesting. His silence helps, she can tell that he's probably still processing, trying to make sense of it. Hell, it took her the past full week to make sense of it, and she's pretty sure that it hasn't even begun to sink in. Still, although she knows he needs time, she needs him to say something, anything; something that will help her through this. Because she knows, if she doesn't have him, she'll fall apart.

"Please," she begs, "say something."

But he doesn't. They sit, shoulders grazing and miles away from each other, alone in the dark at their senior prom.


	2. Chapter 2

She was finally an intern. After ten years of unrelenting exhaustion and endless cramming she had finally made it. Her purse was slung over one shoulder and her jacket was tucked under an elbow while she stood awkwardly in front of Seattle Grace, wondering how it had all happened so fast. This was a new start, a new place, and she had started it off with a bang. Literally _and_ figuratively. She half-smiled, one corner of her lips stretching mysteriously as she remembered the man she had woken up to this morning, his unruly dark hair and his deep eyes. She'd always fallen for the blue-eyed ones; the ones with eyes so dark she could lose herself in them.

She swept her hair into a low pony tail, finally allowing her feet to move forward, closer to the door. She tried not to think of other, previous men in her life with blue eyes and leather jackets. She tried not to think of awkward, new sex while she had quite possibly just had the best sex of her life last night. She wouldn't think of her daughter, her nine year old daughter who was with someone, somewhere, right now. This was her moment, her chance to show the medicine world what she could offer, a chance to show up her mother; even if her mother wasn't in any position to acknowledge it. She was here for herself, this was her dream.

She breezed through the doors, nervous and confident at the same time, ready to conquer something new, ready to move on from classrooms and onto real, living, breathing people with cuts and scrapes and diseases that required surgery, endless amounts of surgery. Surgeries that she'd eventually be performing herself. The thought made her happy, happier than anything else in her life had made her feel.

"I'm George…do you remember me from last night?"

The voice cuts through her fog of thoughts, cuts into the nervous, jumpy energy that seemed to be a theme today. The man in front of her is roughly her height, with wavy hair and blue eyes, a nervous man who reminds her of her father. They were in the locker room, hastily pulling on scrubs before their residents had a chance to realize that they weren't prepared enough for their first day of work.

She squinted, biting her lip and trying to picture if she had _two_ men over last night. Or maybe, just maybe, this _was_ the man from last night. He had dark hair and blue eyes, and he had obviously seen her last night…maybe it was the tequila. Sometimes certain details were…misplaced after fourteen shots.

"Not exactly," she offered, "refresh my memory?"

He sighed, like this has happened before.

"We met last night. You seriously don't remember?"

"Oh, right!" she said, snapping her fingers and looking up to meet his eyes, "at the hospital thing."

"Yeah."

He looked pleased when he turned back to his locker, and she smiled her strange half-smile, turning back to her locker, too. A blonde knock-out to her right started murmuring about her first day one the job, about how excited she was to actually be performing surgeries.

"You won't be performing surgeries," a short woman from the door interrupted, throwing a hard stare out onto the sea of interns, "First days aren't for cutting people open. First days are for scut work, for doing my errands. You don't know a damn thing about surgery yet."

"I guess that's why they call her the Nazi," her father's doppelganger mumbled in her ear, making her smirk.

"I hope you're under me," the woman said, hand on her hip while he paled, falling silent, "Better. Karev, Stevens, Yang, Grey, O'Malley, you're with me."

She heard a pitiful groan come from somewhere in front of her, and she assumed that his name was just called. She was glad, because he was nice. And he, like her one night stand last night, had blue eyes. They grabbed pagers, ID's and cell phones, taking off after a surprisingly fast Dr. Bailey. She began ranting off the rules while they dodged other doctors and nurses, trying to keep focused and alert. This was what they'd been waiting for for years, and it was just as exciting now that they were here.

"O'Malley, you're going to be running labs for the first few hours, Stevens, you've got rectals, Karev, you're with Burke, Yang and Grey, you're on Shepherd's seizure case. You won't be scrubbing in so wipe those smirks off your faces."

They scattered, and she held out her hand to the Asian woman following her.

"I'm Meredith," she greeted after they had stepped into the elevator.

"Christina," she said shortly, looking up at the glowing numbers, "and I don't do friends."

"Good," Meredith answered, unsurprised, "I don't do them either."

The other woman nodded, reaching up to move her wild hair behind her ears. The doors slid open, and they gave one last measuring stare at each other before half-walking half-running towards room 3214.

**AN: So this is short. And I'm sorry. But it just kind of…ended. Review!!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Grey's, although that'd be cool!**

It was strange, how they each took a second to realize that they worked at the same hospital. He overlooked it at first, glancing up to meet her eyes briefly before turning back down to his patient's chart. A few moments went by, moments that she took to get a good look at the reactions flitting across his face; the shock, the confusion, the slight upturn of his lips in, what she assumed, was amusement.

She had started to back away, back into the elevator, when his eyes had migrated once more to hers. Christina had blocked her path, pushing her forward roughly and throwing her a glare.

"What's _wrong_ with you?" she had hissed into Meredith's ear, "You're going to make me look bad."

He started to move towards them after a brief exchange of words with another doctor in the same dark blue scrubs that he wore but she couldn't get her feet to move, no matter how much she wanted to; no matter how much the woman next to her wanted her to. Her feet were rooted to the floor, only stubbornly beginning to trudge forward when a firm hand gripped her elbow, half-dragging half-lifting her down the hallway. Christina grunted with the effort and heaved a sigh of relief when Meredith's feet started to regain control. She let her arms drop to her sides lazily, throwing a sidelong warning glance to Meredith before turning eagerly to Dr. Shepherd and holding out her hand.

"Dr. Shepherd, I'm Christina Yang. Your intern? I just want to let you know that I have a stack of medical journals on my bedside table with articles about you in them and that I'm _extremely _grateful to have the privilege to work under you."

He didn't seem to be listening to her, because his eyes were locked on the other intern, on the intern that he had sex with last night. His eyes crinkled, absently grasping onto Christina's hand and refusing to look away from Meredith.

She wanted to run away, wanted to transfer to Mercy West or some other hospital that didn't employ any of her previous one-night stands.

"Nice to meet you Dr. Yang. And you are…."

His eyes wouldn't leave her face, even as the woman next to her was nearly bouncing on her toes with anticipation. She didn't like the way he was looking at her, that deep, personal look that men got when they'd seen her naked.

"Dr. Grey," she said shortly, refusing to meet his gaze, "do we know what's causing the seizures?"

"No," he said, a smile bleeding through his voice, "I leave that up to you two."

--

He thought about her sometimes; her blonde hair and green eyes, the way she laughed at almost everything he said, the way he hadn't noticed when she stopped laughing the week before prom.

It had taken him a while to stop comparing every girlfriend to her and picturing her face whenever he felt lost. It had taken him a while, but he had done it, and now he was okay, really, because she was a part of his past, and the woman waiting for him back at his apartment was his future. The woman whom he barely knew, flicking absently through channels with a dull, bored expression splayed across her features.

The bar was lonely, most of the other customers had already gotten cabs or gone home to their wives, everyone but him and another shadowy man a couple of stools over.

He couldn't help wishing she was here, too, even nearly a decade later, while he kicked back shots that stung his throat and made his eyes water.

It wasn't that he still missed her, it was that he missed the _idea_ of her- the way she had looked at him and the way he had looked at her.

He missed that, and he didn't know how he could _stop_ missing it. How do you go about forgetting your first love? How do you move on when that person introduced you to everything? How do you get past the person who once _was_ your everything?

He closed his eyes, burning with heat from the alcohol and the memory of her.

He wasn't always this nostalgic, but somehow, with three shot glasses of her preferred poison laid out in front of him in a grungy bar hidden in a dark alleyway, he began to think back to everything that had gone wrong, and why it was his fault.

**AN: So I'm doing short chapters, because somehow it just worked out like that. Sorry. Keep reviewing, though, because reviews make me happy!! **


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: So a lot of people have been confused about whether or not Derek's the father. He's not. That's why they don't recognize each other during the one-night stand or afterwards….everything else will be explained later….be patient!!!**

He had been pursuing her for nearly a week; cornering her in elevators, dropping by the house she now shared with two other interns, requesting her at work. His obvious interest was flattering, and she was sure that if he kept pushing, her resolve would start shattering.

He was starting to look hotter each day, his eyes a little bit bluer, his hair a little more perfect. The fact that he was charming and the exact opposite of what she needed wasn't helping.

"So is this line imaginary, or do I have to get you a marker?" He'd asked her in the elevator, his eyes twinkling playfully, his lips close to her ear. She ignored him, willing the elevator to move faster, to get to her floor quicker. She couldn't deal with a man right now, not when her career was just starting out, not when she was just starting to forget about her nine-year old daughter whose name she didn't even know. Her arms folded across her chest defensively and she refused to look him in the eye. His lips curled slightly at the corners; she could hear his smile.

She kept telling herself that she wouldn't give in, wouldn't get caught up in everything that a relationship came with.

But, before she could fully understand what she was doing, she was suddenly pressing up against him, ignoring the flutter of papers and concentrating solely on his lips and the feel of his hair through her fingers. The elevator stopped, and she jumped away from him, straightening her scrubs self-consciously and shaking her hair lightly to get rid of the mussed-up-sex look. She didn't look back when she stumbled out of the elevator, nearly losing her balance on the gap between where the elevator ended and the floor began.

--

_Senior prom was the last time he looked at her, talked to her, touched her. It was the last time he had told her he loved her because after that, everything changed. He wouldn't take her calls and avoided her in the hallways. After school she had waited for an hour, waiting for him to suddenly show up in front of her, leaning against his car with his leather jacket tossed lazily over one shoulder, his eyes glinting. At lunch she went back to sitting with her friends instead of letting him take her to the diner a couple of blocks away. He wouldn't look her in the eyes during their classes together, instead actually paying attention for once. _

_She had chalked it up to shock at first, and given him a week to adjust, a week that she had taken, too. But eventually she began to miss his flirting. She began to miss the diner, and the leather jacket, and the eyes. She began to miss him, his smile, his laugh. She was missing him and the worst thing was that he had showed no signs of missing her. _

"_Are you done?" She asked one day, catching him at his locker after class. He turned towards his locker, flipping the combination easily and passively ignoring her._

"_I said, are you done," she said, voice cold and growing louder with each word. He was embarrassed, she saw, his eyes darting down the hallway for potential eavesdroppers. _

"_Can we not do this here?" he hissed. _

"_No. You haven't talked to me for over a week. It's time for us to deal with this. I didn't say we had to keep the baby, so I don't know why you're ignoring me. We can do this together, make this decision together. We aren't going to break up, not over this."_

_He sighed, slamming his locker and reluctantly whirling to face her. _

"_Do you want me to pretend like this never happened?"_

"_Isn't that what you've been doing since prom?"_

"_Meredith…"_

"_Don't," she said firmly, stubborn tears collecting at the corner of her eyes, "I don't need an explanation, or an apology. I need us to go back to the way we were."_

_He sighed again, leaning against the wall of lockers and looking frighteningly lost. _

"_I don't think I can," he murmured, leaving her alone in the hallway, frowning as she watched his back fade into a sea of high schoolers. _

A hand waved obnoxiously in front of her face, effectively cutting off her daydream. It was Christina, she realized, as her eyes focused and her legs uncrossed themselves from underneath the lunch table.

"Where were you just now?" she asks, "We have rounds in two minutes."

The blonde brushed the hair out of her face, lifting the edge of her tray and gulping down the rest of her apple juice.

"I'm fine," she said to Christina's concerned glance, "Just a little tired."

"I'm not. Guess what surgery I scrubbed in on this morning?"

"I don't know, Christina." Her voice was scratched with memories and her eyes were back to their distant, glazed look.

"What's with you today? Seriously, you're like a ghost."

"Just thinking," she murmured, offering a weak smile.

"Yeah, right."

"Seriously! I'm fine."

"Did something happen with McDreamy? He's been flirting with you all week."

"I wish," she said instinctively, clamping a hand over her mouth once she'd realized what she'd said. She ignored the pang of emotion she felt with his name, ignored the tell-tale sign that she might be falling.

"So you _are_ into him," Christina casually observed while bringing her hair up into a messy pony tail, "Which is good. I was beginning to wonder if you were a lesbian."

Meredith laughed, forgetting why she was depressed and thoughtful a moment ago, instead focusing on being happy and careless with her sort-of best friend.

**AN: I promise, in the next few chapters (maybe the next one) you'll find out who **_**is**_** the father. Along with other stuff. Reviews help, the more I get the more motivation I have to update fast lol. **


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Just so you're not confused, this is a couple weeks into the future. Derek and Meredith are now together, going along with the show's plotline. The reason I skipped ahead is because we all know how they started out. Sorry it's been so long!!! Enjoy-**

"I need to see her," he all but begged into the receiver, hundreds of miles away, "You can't just keep her away from me forever, Addie."

He pictured her light blonde hair and sea-green eyes. Eyes that had him falling since he first saw her.

"_Funny; Mark asked the same thing today."_

"You're still seeing Mark?"

He heard a sigh and he could almost hear her cringe at her mistake.

"_Not exactly. I just…run into him at work occasionally."_

"Right," he said, sarcasm giving his voice an edge.

"_Derek, it was nothing. Can't we just work this out? I miss you."_

"Addie…"

"_I know, I know. My fault. But can we at least come and visit you?"_

"You, Mark and Hannah?" He asked incredulously, shaking away the image of a perfect, care-free family.

A family that didn't include him.

"_No. Just Hannah and I. I know you miss her, and you won't even have to talk to me."_

"I need to see her," he repeated, "But I have a life here, Addie. I met someone and…"

"_The intern?"_

"Her name's Meredith. But yes, the intern. I just… don't want to wreck this, you know?"

Another sigh, almost inaudible. Her voice was shaky when it came through his ear, breathy, like she was struggling against tears.

"_So what am I supposed to do? Ship her off on a plane across the country by herself?"_

"She's nine, Addie. She'll be fine."

"_I-I know. It's just…she's…she's my daughter, and I don't want to just throw her into a new life just because we're separated."_

"We have to, Addie," he paused, "Unless you want a custody battle, that is."

Silence threaded through the phone line, and he waited anxiously as she considered. She was biting her lip, he could feel it, eyes closed in thought. After twelve years of marriage, he could almost see her.

"_Okay," _she said finally_, "I'll send her."_

--

They had gotten Hannah when she was an infant through an adoption agency on the west coast, mainly because Addison had pushed for it after their marriage had started to drift. Derek hadn't liked the idea of getting a child to fix them, but as soon as he'd seen her, he'd known. Something about her-the golden hair, the green eyes- had drawn him in from the start. Something about her fingers latching onto his thumb stubbornly, unwilling to let him go.

He'd wanted that; _needed_ that.

Later, when she was growing up, they grew more attached. She'd follow him to work on the days when he was avoiding Addison and she'd shift through the papers on his desk, sorting them into even piles that, in less than a week, would fall back into the organized chaos they'd been in originally.

She became a part of his life, a part that he wasn't willing to give up just because his marriage was over.

"Hey."

Her voice jolted him from the pile of medical forms splayed out in front of him in organized chaos. He sighed, entangling his fingers in his hair and glancing up to meet her eyes. She looked like Hannah, he realized, but maybe it was just the eyes and the hair. He shivered inwardly, wondering if the only reason he was interested in Meredith was because she reminded him of Hannah. He doubted it.

"Hey."

"When does your shift end?"

He flipped his wrist, looking at the hands on the watch that Addison had bought him for their fourth anniversary.

"Fifteen minutes ago. Want to get something to eat?"

Her eyebrows raised suggestively.

"I was thinking we could…skip dinner."

"Really?"

She nodded slowly, stepping closer and resting her palms on his desk.

"Yeah. We could do…other things…"

He grinned, exhaustion replaced with anticipation. His mind flicked quickly through a myriad of images, each one convincing him of exactly why he was dating her.

"Such as?"

Within seconds her mood changed. Her posture lengthened, and she lifted her hands from his desk, settling back into the chair across from him.

"Oh, you know. T.V. Reading. Shopping."

He grinned wider, the corners of his mouth threatening to trespass through his cheeks.

"Funny."

"I thought so."

"Seriously, though. Dinner?"

"Mhhmmm…" she pretended to think, tilting her head back, "depends. Fancy or Casual?"

"Up to you."

"Ooh, good! I love picking out the restaurant."

She flipped back her hair, smiling coyly and perching herself somewhat-unstably on the edge of his desk. She looked down at the papers, feigning interest while he stared at her, amused.

"Don't you have scut work to do?" he asked playfully, snatching the papers she was flipping through out of her grasp.

"Bailey's sleeping and I should've left hours ago. What's your excuse?" 

"I'm a workaholic."

"Doesn't every doctor have to be?" she tilted her head downward, investigating his papers more thoroughly, "Can I organize these for you? Seriously, this is insane."

"No!" He blurted reflexively, before stammering to correct his tone, "I mean…the system works. For me. It looks stressful, but cleaning it up would just get me more confused."

She narrowed her eyes into slits, curious at his refusal.

"Ex girlfriend?" she guessed.

"Close," he mumbled, wrapping an arm loosely around her waist and shifting her so she was off his desk, "I'll meet you at the entrance, okay?"

"You'll tell me later though, right?" she called as he gently shut the door in her face, her neck craned hopefully towards the plaque on the door. Sighing, she shook her head lightly and started towards downstairs to change.

**I don't really like this chapter. I did it quickly, like in two hours, because you guys have waited so patiently and it's been like a week since I updated. So yeah. It's not as good as I would have liked. Let me know what you think. **


	6. Chapter 6

_Her black nails hung like beetles on the ends of her fingers, glinting as she stepped out of her beat up van in sweatpants and one of her dad's old t-shirts, the bump of her stomach concealed half-heartedly, earrings jangling lightly against her ears. She was seven months pregnant, and her once-vibrant pink hair had faded to a burnt orange. Her face had aged ten years in the last few months, mainly because of the combined stress of her mother, school and, of course, the unfortunate side affect of sex without condoms, but also influenced by the disappearance of the one person who she'd thought would always understand. _

_Her ex was gone, off to college in New York City where they'd always wanted to go. He had left a note, a paragraph of writing things that he hadn't had the courage to say. She'd read it at least a dozen times, and the paper was dotted with water marks from her tears and crinkled at the edges from use. _

_Slipping a protective hand underneath her sweatshirt, she spread her fingers into a spider web across her stomach, feeling a light kick of acknowledgement. She smiled to herself, a gentle upturn of the lips meant only for her and her baby. Then, in a soft coo of a voice, she began to speak, letting the sound carry across the nearly empty park, muffled against the August heat. _

"_What about…Evelyn?" she asked, pausing as if expecting an answer. She stayed there a moment, soaking in the moment before lifting a textbook out of the van and dragging it over to a nearby tree. Her breath was shallow with the effort, and she winced while awkwardly lowering herself down to rest on the grass, the book clutched tightly in one hand. _

_Willow branches dipped in front of her and behind, shading them as she flipped through the pages with practiced fingers. It was her mother's book, a book that she often stole from Ellis' bedside table just to skim over the diagrams, just to stare at the sketched outlines of brains and hearts and lungs. She poured over them, relishing the only connection she had with her mother; their love for science. _

_She propped the book underneath her stomach, hitching up her legs and giggling softly at the ridiculous notion that her baby could read along with her, that they could both drink in the diagrams, three generations of Grey women finding their own solace within the pages. Her mind was separated from the book this time, though, the usual calm not coming as easily to her as before. _

_She was debating adoption, debating the thought of handing over her baby girl to a stranger, someone who she wasn't sure would give her daughter everything. Of course, she __knew__ that she wouldn't be able to give her daughter everything either. _

"_Hippocampus, Parietal lobe, Cerebellum."_

_The words sounded familiar and exotic at the same time, tainting her tongue. She spread her hand over her stomach again, sighing at the comfort that small, significant heartbeat gave her. She glanced up; clouds, branches, light. She sighed, closing the textbook, feeling the familiar sting of tears. _

"_What are we going to do, baby?" she asked, "should you be Evelyn or someone else?"_

--

It had been two months since she'd given in to Derek's persistent stalking. Two dreamy months that had her practically begging to move in with him. But that was the thing- the thing that had her analyzing every aspect of their relationship from every possible angle- _he_ wasn't begging _her _to move in with him.

He had hinted at it, flirting with the idea, but whenever she casually slipped it into a conversation, he'd change the subject abruptly. At first, she accepted it as nerves, maybe even insecurity. But, as time went on and things got even more serious, she started to notice other annoyingly miniscule details that got her wondering if everything was really as happily-ever-after as she'd hoped it would be. Like the fact that he wouldn't tell her about his family, or about where he lived before Seattle. Or that he shifted his feet awkwardly and changed the subject whenever she mentioned taking things a step forward. It wouldn't have bothered her so much if she wasn't falling so hard so fast, dangling on the edge between like and love and wondering why he wasn't sharing the feeling, why he wasn't dangling right along with her.

She wanted him to love her, to whisper the insignificant details to her late at night while her hair was splayed out over his chest, his fingers running lightly up and down her arm. She wanted him to fall as hard and as fast as she was, at the same pace so she wouldn't feel vulnerable and needy.

But, after another long shift and another long day, all he did was hold out his hand for her to take, grinning at her under masked eyes.

"Home?" he questioned rhetorically.

"Home," she sighed, not taking his offered hand.

"Mer…"

"Don't," she snapped, surprising both of them with the fire lacing the word "I've had a long shift and I don't want to argue about whether or not this is a relationship."

"Huh? Who says we're arguing?"

"I say we're arguing."

"But you just said-"

"Derek," she warned, "don't."

He held up his hands mockingly, staring at her back disbelievingly while she stalked ahead of him. He ran a hand through his hair, taking a moment to think, to breathe. Seconds slip by before he sighs, jogging to catch up to her. He's almost to her when suddenly she's in his arms, both of them stunned at the sudden impact. Meredith, eyes trained on the obstacle before her, blindly tries to shrug off Derek's hold.

"Oh my god," a strangely familiar voice says, "I am _so_ sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going, see, because I was looking for…Dad!"

She launched into his arms, burrowing into his neck and leaning on the arm that wasn't still warily attached to Meredith. Hannah's arms snaked around his neck tightly, and Meredith was struggling to contain the flashes of emotion; shock, disbelief, pain. Her eyes blinked, and it was like she was moving in slow motion or paralyzed, willing her mind to move but frustrated to learn that it couldn't.

For Derek, the feeling that sparked when they were both in his arms was what he expected it should have been like if he had had children with Addison. It was quick, like a jolt of memory, unexpected but not unwelcome, their honey-blonde hair identical in a way that was utterly unbelievable to him. Was it possible for two unrelated people to look so much alike? Was it possible for him to almost-fall-in-love with someone who looked almost exactly like his nine year old daughter?

Within seconds it was over, the spell broken by a trembling Meredith who had finally gained control over her movement. When she was free of Derek's grasp, she took a few wavering steps forward, stumbling towards the sliding glass doors that held her only hope for escape.

"So," a voice called from the chairs off to her right, "you must be the woman who's been screwing my husband."

**AN: I know, mean. But I will explain why Addison's there, I promise. In the meantime…review!!!**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: So people are kind of confused, so this will hopefully clear up some of it…**

**Meredith's upset that Derek has a daughter, not because she knows it's hers. **

**It is most definitely Meredith's kid. **

**you will find out later who the father is so…keep reading!!! Lol. **

**I may incorporate Ellis…mhmm, good idea. But I'm not quite sure where yet…**

**I think doppelganger is an English word…it was in alias!!!**

**Addison and Derek are married because that's how it happens on the show. This is like, the same thing but with other, more complicated things happening, and not an exact timeline. **

**Are all the questions answered? If the answer's yes or no, review!!**

Her hair clung to her face, dark and tangled as she leaned against the tree outside the hospital where she had thrown up during her first week of internship. It was raining, silver sheets pounding on her back, her arms, her face. She bent over, trying to gulp back the overpowering feeling of dizziness.

Derek; father. Derek; husband.

Her eyes welled with infuriatingly authentic tears, but she was far to proud to let them fall. They hung there, glistening and making her blind to the rain, and the tree, and to Derek, who was pulling on her arm and begging her to listen in a strained, desperate voice. The girl was watching wide-eyed from a few feet away, the red-head's hand placed lightly on her shoulder in a protective grip.

"I didn't tell you because-"

"No. You don't get to explain right now," she snapped, shrugging off his touch, "I get to stalk away in an act of defiance and you get to watch me walk away."

He surprised her by nodding weakly, stepping back and letting her pull her coat tighter and brush past his wife and daughter who he had failed to mention for the first three months of their relationship. The _only_ three months of their relationship, she decided forcefully while throwing her car into gear and tearing out of the Seattle Grace parking lot, one hand gripping the head rest of the passenger seat so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

_She pulled out her phone, which has been vibrating incessantly for five minutes straight. She was sprawled on the couch, unable to move much because of her swollen ankles and aching back. She glanced at the caller ID, wincing at the New York number; she already knew who it was. After all, she only knew one person from New York. _

"_What do you want?" Her voice was sharp, carrying months of hurt in the low octaves of her words. _

"_Meredith," he breathed, like a sigh. _

"_What do you want?" she repeated, unconsciously tugging at the edge of her maternity dress and willing him silently to hang up. _

"_I just…I needed-look, I found a place for the baby."_

"_You found a place. What does that even mean? You don't talk to me for the rest of the school year and then you leave, not even having the courage to break up with me, and then you expect me to take _your_ advice? Are you on crack?" _

_She sounded more confident than she felt; in reality she was sinking further and further into herself, mentally curling into the fetal position. _

"_Meredith, you can't take care of this baby by yourself. You need someone else, and I found a really great couple."_

"_Why should I trust you? And where the _hell_ do you get off telling me what I should do with my life? _You _left _me.You _chose to give up on us, not me. _You _decided that you couldn't handle it."_

_He sighed, sounding exhausted and frustrated. _

"_Look, there's a couple a few years ahead of me and they just got married. They're ready to have a baby, but they can't. Will you think about it? They're good friends of mine."_

"_So you think you can just call whenever and decide the rest of my life just because they're 'your friends'?"_

"_Yes-no…god, Meredith I'm just giving you an option. You don't have to make a decision now, but will you think about it?"_

"_Do you realize that this is the first time you've spoken to me in eight months?"_

_He hesitated, before omitting a small 'yes'. _

"_Just making sure," she said before pressing end and letting out a long breath of relief. Her first telephone confrontation with her ex boyfriend and she had gotten through without bursting into tears._

_It was a miracle. _

Back at the house, George was waiting with a mug of steaming coffee, which he silently handed to her as soon as she slammed the door and began shrugging off her coat.

"Izzie called," he said, once she'd drained the mug and gone to the kitchen to get another, "She told me about the scene in the lobby."

"She saw?"

"Half the staff saw," he answered softly, "are you okay?"

"Do I look like I'm okay?"

She didn't.

Her eyes were red-rimmed and stained with unshed tears and her hair was still clinging desperately to her face.

"No."

"Then I'm not okay."

She rinsed out the mug, setting it carefully on the drying rack and heaving another long, drawn-out sigh before falling into one of their bar stools.

"I wish I could go back," she muttered, "I wish I could pick up someone _else_ at Joe's, someone who isn't McDreamy and isn't married and doesn't have a daughter."

"Yeah," George mused, "Yeah, I wish you could do that too."

"He didn't tell me," she said, mentally cursing at the break in her voice, "he didn't tell me and now they're here and…"

"I know."

She shot him a strange look, like she was just seeing him for the first time. She let out a small shutter of emotion and smiled weakly, stubbornly trying to make everything okay. Then, almost as if she hadn't said anything, her demeanor changed and she stood up quickly, nearly knocking over the display of fruit Izzie had set up the night before.

"I'm just going to go…," she murmured, "I'm just going to…I need sleep, you know. With work tomorrow and everything."

"You should call in sick," he suggested, "you shouldn't have to deal with him right now."

"No. I have to go, otherwise he'll think I'm staying home for him. He'll think he actually meant something to me and right now I don't want him to think I actually care."

He nodded, reluctantly letting her climb the stairs at a labored, tortured pace. He sighed, knowing that the next few weeks would be spent pulling all-nighters for sobbing roommates and sleeping with a pillow placed tightly over his ears to block out the sounds from her one night stands. Knowing that, despite his comforting words and gestures, she would never know that he loved her.


	8. Chapter 8

The doorbell rang, echoing off the hallway walls and creeping through the thin crack separating the floor from her shut door. She groaned, turning over to blindly search for the sleep button on her silent alarm clock. Her fingers spread out across the bedside table, knocking over her reading glasses.

The bell rang again, and her eyes opened blearily, taking a moment to focus on the pillow clutched tightly in her left hand, still damp from the night before. Unclenching her hands from embarrassment, she gradually became aware that what she thought had been her alarm clock was really the doorbell. Sitting up in one clumsy movement, she fumbled for the boxers resting a couple of feet from the bed and glanced back at the clock.

2:43 pm.

Brushing her tangled hair back with one hand, she tripped down the stairs, landing on the first floor haphazardly and wrenching the door open. She was yawning, one hand pressed up to hide her wide open mouth, her head tipped back, her posture slumped. She was yawning, so she didn't see who was on the other side of the door well enough over the tip of her nose to slam the door back shut. The split second it took for her to question, realize, and react was enough for him to push his way past her, spinning around to face her with his hand already running nervously through his already perfectly-mussed hair.

"I've given you twelve hours," he said, "and that's pretty much all I'm willing to give."

"I don't want to hear it," she said, narrowing her eyes and heading for the kitchen. He followed her, leaning against the entrance while she disappeared into the refrigerator.

"We're separated."

"As in still married?"

He sighed, "As in still married."

She'd sworn to herself that she'd never be the lovesick girlfriend again, but it looked like that promise was pretty much irrelevant now.

"And the girl?"

"Adopted. Nine years ago."

A faint spark of memory; an adopted nine year old girl…

Evelyn would be nine by now…

"I don't want to hear it," she murmured to the orange juice, barely above a whisper, closing her eyes painfully and letting the memory blur.

"Of course you want to hear it."

"No, what I _want _to do is sit here moping with my orange juice and vodka. You can let yourself out," she snapped, pouring an inch of orange into her empty glass.

"What happened to Tequila?"

Her eyes narrowed again and her mouth clenched into a firm, unwavering line.

"It's gone. Like you will be soon."

"Will you at least just _think_ about giving in to my charms again?"

"Once was enough."

"Right."

He watched while she reached for a half-empty bottle at the top of the refrigerator, not bothering to look away when her tank top lifted with her arm, revealing an inch or two of bare skin.

"The conversation's over," she said, eyebrows raised expectedly as her toes sank back to the floor.

"You haven't agreed to give me a second chance yet."

"Exactly."

"Look, I didn't know they were coming. I asked Addison weeks ago to send Hannah alone, but-"

"So you were never going to tell me."

"I was, just not…"

"Anytime in the near future?" she finished, "Derek, what did you think I was going to say when you showed up with a kid on my doorstep?"

He shrugged, looking sheepish.

"Nice to meet you?" he guessed.

She filled the rest of the glass up with clear, burning alcohol and settled back into one of their bar stools, enveloping her drink protectively while she sipped.

"No. I would say 'what the hell?' and slam the door in your face."

"Good. I'd deserve it."

Her mouth twitched, her lips almost, _almost_ cracking into a smile while she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, bending further over the island in the middle of the kitchen, her elbows propped up on either side of her.

"A family, Derek? Seriously? I don't know if I can do the whole parenting thing."

Another stab of memory.

"She's nine and mature for her age. It'll be like talking to a young adult."

"And a wife? I _know_ I don't do threesomes."

"Duly noted."

"So…"

"So…"

"So I need to think about this. Figure out if this is what I want."

"It is," he assured before she shot him a silencing look.

"We'll see. But for now you should spend time with…Hannah?"

"Hannah."

"Right. Spend time with her and we'll talk in a couple of days."

"Mer-"

"Come back in a couple of days," she insisted in a lower, softer voice.

Because of her expression, because of the way she was looking at him like everything was okay, he left, backing out of the kitchen quietly as if he'd never been there in the first place.

**AN: I'll be blunt. **

**I don't like this chapter. The beginning is way too rushed and there's a little too much dialogue. But, with a severe case of writers block, what can you do? **

**Let me know what you think. **


	9. Chapter 9

The glass was sweating; fat beads of water slipping down the sides while she stared so long her eyes started to sting. Izzie was watching her from over a cup of bitter coffee, a few strands of hair falling in front of one suspicious eye. They had been like that since Meredith had woken up that morning and stumbled into the kitchen for breakfast, nearly colliding with an unusually silent blonde roommate.

They had barely glanced at each other until Meredith had suddenly decided to go catatonic.

"Is there a reason that we're more dark and twisty than usual?" Izzie asked finally.

Meredith shook her head, blinking but not bothering to shift her attention towards Izzie.

The girl had looked like her. The girl had looked so much like her that an incredible, terrifying thought had worked itself into her mind; what if the girl, by some amazing coincidence, was hers? What if Mark's friends from New York were Addison and Derek Shepherd, young newlyweds desperate for a child?

_She had begun having sporadic meetings with a consult at the local family planning building downtown, and she had officially made her choice-she was putting her daughter, Evelyn Ellis Grey, up for adoption. _

_There had been a couple meetings with possible parents in stuffy, windowless rooms that lacked working air conditioners. All of the parents were wrong, though. So wrong that she wondered if she was really making the right decision. _

_They were either too rigid or not rigid enough, too smart or not smart enough; too dull, too brunette, too all-American. _

_It was starting to become obvious to her that no parents would be adequate, and with only a month to go, she was starting to run out of time. _

_After a particularly grueling session with a couple from Oklahoma, she made the call and he answered on the first ring._

"_Hello?"_

"_I'm only doing this because I have no choice. I don't want to meet them, and I don't want them to know who I am."_

"_Whatever you want. I'll book a flight for tomorrow."_

"_Fine."_

"_Meredith, this means a lot…"_

"_It shouldn't."_

"_Right. I'll see you soon?"_

"_I won't be civil."_

"_I'm not expecting you to be civil."_

"_Good."_

"_Good."_

She winced.

"Are you okay? You've been staring at that for well over ten minutes."

"I'm fine." 

The door slammed, followed by a serious of crashes. Moments later a breathless, haggard George appeared at the door, backpack slung over one shoulder.

"The nurses are going on strike," he announced, crossing over to Izzie and wrenching a cabinet open.

"What?" Izzie asked, "What do you mean the nurses are going on strike? Doctors can't work without nurses!"

"Exactly what I said! How do they expect us to work when there isn't anyone doing all the dirty work?"

Ignoring the cold, Meredith wrapped her hands around her glass, cutting in quietly, "Maybe we won't have to go into work anymore."

They both stared.

"We can't just boycott work along with the nurses," Izzie lectured gently, "We're doctors; there are sick people out there who need our help."

"Damn sick people," she mumbled back.

"What's wrong?" George asked, pouring the last of the coffee into a mug.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Uh huh."

"Really, I'm fine," she insisted, shifting her eyes back in forth between them, "I'm fine."

"You're not really convincing us here, Meredith."

"At least she's not drinking alcohol anymore," Izzie murmured to George, then louder, "Meredith? That's not vodka, right?"

"All the vodka's gone," she said pitifully, dragging the glass closer and looking mournfully down at her dissolving ice cubes, "along with all of the Tequila."

"Great, so she drank our entire stash," George said sarcastically, rolling his eyes, "That makes me feel _so _much better, Iz."

"Well it's not like I can keep an eye on her all the time, George. I have work, too."

"I don't understand how she could have drunk everything we had when she's intern. Where does she find the time?"

"I spiked everything," Meredith answered, "Orange juice, coffee, lemonade…"

She looked like she was about to cry.

"Mer, hey…what happened?"

She shrugged away George's arm around her shoulder.

"I'm only upset because we have no more alcohol."

"Right."

They didn't look convinced.

"Look, he came to see me yesterday-"she began grudgingly.

"Ah," they both chorused knowingly.

She chose to ignore them.

"He came to see me yesterday and he tried to explain."

There was a short pause.

"Well?" they prompted.

"Well what?"

"Well, was it a good explanation?"

"Not particularly."

"Oh."

"So….Do you guys want to go to the liquor store for me?"

"We're cutting you off," George answered after a quick look at Izzie, and she groaned.

"You guys are supposed to _help _me, not deprive me."

"Trust us, we're helping you," George said.

"Our shift starts in half an hour," Izzie said, ignoring both comments, "Do you need me to help you brush your teeth or do you think you have that covered?"

"I think I have that covered," Meredith mumbled obediently, getting up exaggeratingly slow and turning towards the stairs.

"Good," Izzie said forcefully, jumping off her perch on the kitchen counter and trailing a few feet behind her roommate as she made her way painstakingly up to her room.

**AN: I apologize for the subtle Oklahoma dig, if you could call it that. I just needed somewhere that was kind of…yeah. I have nothing against it, though. Oh, and the whole alcohol thing is my way of letting out my fleeting obsession with Pirates of the Caribbean because I just saw the third one (it was kind of a jack sparrow moment btw) and I fell in love with Johnny Depp…again. **

**Anyway, sorry it's been so long for me to get this up, I've just been a little busy with family and stuff since graduation is this week…yeah!! I only have two more days of school, though, so hopefully I'll be able to post more after this week. Let me know what you think!!! Review. **


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: no, you didn't know that Mark was the father. It was my subtle way of letting you know. **

"So this is what you got out of our conversation last month?"

"I didn't want her to go by herself, Derek. She's just a girl and I didn't want to send her across the country without me."

"She's going to have to do it again…"

They were in the lobby of the hospital, him still in his scrubs while she was looking elegant, as always, in Armani. She breathed in shakily, sinking into one of the chairs and looking down somewhat guiltily at her knee-length skirt.

"Actually, Derek, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

He groaned, bringing two fingers up to the bridge of his nose. He knew what was coming.

"You're staying."

She nodded, "I think its best. If we're going to work through this-"

"We're not working through this, Addison, its over," he growled.

"If we're going to work through this," she insisted, "then I should be here, with you."

"I don't think you fully understand the concept of 'separated'."

She reached up to rest a palm on his hip, tucking one of her long legs underneath the chair, her stiletto heel resting against the tile. He shrugged off her touch, stepping back.

"I understand," she purred, "I just don't see the point."

She reached up again, this time intertwining their hands, her wedding ring pressed against his little finger, cold and glinting. He stared at the ring and the hand, remembering how the image had always looked so natural; her hand with his. She was looking up at him with heartbreakingly hopeful eyes which was, unfortunately, when Meredith Grey finally decided to drag herself through the sliding glass doors, arm and arm with both Izzie and George. She didn't see the couple at first, her gaze sweeping over them disinterestedly as she contemplated exactly how she was supposed to get through the shift stretching infinitely in front of her, and Derek didn't see her either; later he would probably regret crouching in front of his wife and brushing back the red hair that had fallen out of Addison's perfect French twist.

"Addie, listen, things are complicated right now…I can't just jump back into my old life like nothing happened-"

"I realize that. And I understand, on some level. But we've been married for _twelve years_, Derek. Are you saying that you're ready to cut me out completely?"

He ran a hand through his hair, straightening up and listening to his knees crack. He glanced around, looking anywhere but Addison, and, unexpectedly, he found narrowed grey-green eyes staring back at him. He stumbled back; letting Addison's hand fall out of his while he fought for balance. By the time he was steady, she was gone, disappeared into the sea of lab coats and most likely wishing that he would go to hell.

--

"Damn Shepherd, getting back together with his damn wife in the middle of the damn hospital," George mumbled.

"Ass," Izzie agreed.

"We all knew they'd end up together. They have a kid for god's sakes," Alex called from a few lockers down.

"Not helping."

He held up his hands in mock surrender, "I'm just saying."

"Yeah, well maybe she doesn't need your opinion, _Alex_."

A locker slammed, and their eyes followed a slumped blonde as she stalked towards the door, clipping her pager to the waistband of her scrubs as she moved away from them and towards an entering Bailey.

"It looks like she doesn't want your opinion either, _Izzie_."

"Shut up."

He smirks, biting into the green apple held in his left hand and rocking back on his heels to lean against the row of lockers.

"Where the hell is Grey going?" Bailey asks to the crowd, craning her neck to glance at the sulking girl.

"She's feeling…sick…" George offered in a not-so-convincing way, "She just had to go the bathroom to…"

"O'Malley."

"Yeah?"

"Stop lying."

"Yes, M'am."

Silence.

"Well? Why is Grey cutting rounds?"

George backed away, giving Izzie a helpless look.

"Personal issues," Izzie cut in, ignoring Alex's eye roll, "I'll go get her."

She started to push past Alex and George, her left hand gripping the handle of her bubble gum pink thermos.

"Whoa," Bailey said, stopping her with a hand, "Did I say you could go? We've lost one intern, that's enough for one day. I'll handle it."

The hand came down and Izzie backed away obediently, head bowed.

"Good. Now…O'Malley's with Shepherd-"

"No."

"_Excuse _me?"

"No…"

"Have I _ever_ made it seem like its okay to argue with me? Have I _ever_ made you doubt your place in this hospital?"

"No…" George repeated softly, trailing off into what sounded like a question.

"Then you should know that orders are given from _me _to _you_. Not the other way around. We clear?"

"Crystal," he choked.

"Good. Now, O'Malley's with Shepherd, Karev's with Burke, and Steven's, you're in the pit."

They scattered (Izzie going somewhat reluctantly), leaving Bailey to her under-the-breath complaints about overly-confident suck ups.


	11. Chapter 11

Meredith was sobbing in the bathroom, and she hated it.

She'd never pegged herself as the lovesick sort-of girlfriend hiding from her married sort-of boyfriend in the bathroom at work but, apparently, somewhere along the way, that's who she'd become. She wondered what her mother would say if she were here. Bringing a both palms up to her face, she pressed them into her eyelids, willing the tear streaks and red rims to disappear.

Thank god all the stalls were empty, it'd be mortifying to be discovered like this, hair clinging to her face, knees up to her chest while she sat perched on the farthest toilet from the door, hiding from both an Armani-clad knock-out and a flannel-wearing, gorgeous brunette that just happened to be the reason she was crying her heart out at work. The door cracked open and she scrambled up, nearly dropping into the water as she frantically dove for the sink to bury her face under the faucet.

A sigh.

"I know it's you, Grey."

Meredith paused, wincing as she realized who was at the door. She almost wished it had been someone else, someone who had wavy long hair and wasn't allowed in women's bathrooms.

"And here I was thinking it was the perfect hiding place," she quipped, straightening up to face Bailey, "Did the rest of the interns send you to bring me out of my bottomless pit of depression?"

The shorter woman stepped forward, her black hair catching the light as her eyes swept over Meredith's frame pityingly. She clucked, "What the hell _happened_ to you?"

She watched while the still tear-streaked girl sank against the wall.

"I don't even know," she murmured, "one minute we're fine and then-and then-"

"Don't cry," Bailey warned, "I don't do crying."

"I'm not going to cry," Meredith insisted, although the tears started to well up anyway despite how unwelcome they were, "At least I wasn't going to until-until _he_ showed up…"

She was crying harder, the tears coming faster as her words bled together until Bailey gave up trying to understand.

"I'm not supposed to follow any of this, right?"

The intern's head shook, blonde hair fanning out for a second before draping limply back to its place on her shoulders.

"Good. When do you think you can work?"

The sobs slowed to hiccups and a hand reached up again to wipe at her eyes.

"Now?" she offered waveringly.

"No. Patients won't trust you while you look like… that. I'll give you ten minutes to pull yourself together and then I'm putting you on scut."

"But I need to-"

Bailey interrupted gently, like she expected her intern to explode into tears again, "You need to take it easy, Grey. And frankly? I wouldn't want you to operate on me right now," she waved her hands at Meredith, "Come and see me if you feel the need to run into the bathroom again."

Before Meredith could nod weakly, the door was swinging shut. Sighing, she lowered herself to the floor and let her shoulders shake with now-familiar sobs.

--

"Where's Meredith?" he asked casually, leaning against the nurse's station counter and focusing solely on the paperwork in front of him. The blonde just gave him a look and pushed herself off the counter, walking away.

"It's not like I cheated on her," he called after her, glancing up only when she whirled to face him.

"That's all you're going to say-that you didn't cheat on her," her eyes narrowed and she took two confident steps in his direction, "She's crying in the bathroom because she saw you get back together with your _wife_, who, by the way, you didn't tell her about, and all you have to say is _'it's not like I cheated on her'? _What the hell is _wrong_ with you?"

He winced.

"So she did see that."

"Yes, she saw it, along with half the people _that she works with_," She studied him for a second before shaking her head, "Congratulations on breaking my best friend."

His mouth opened and closed stupidly but she was gone by the time he could form a word, pushing angrily past the temp nurses and heading in the general direction of the OR. He watched her blonde ponytail bounced from side to side down the hallway, only looking away when she turned a corner.

He turned back down to his paperwork, running a hand nervously through his hair and letting his mind wander.

He knew that his latest screw up had, quite possibly, just ended his relationship with Meredith and he also knew that if he didn't fix this, if he didn't beg her to take him back, he'd be spending every night for the next ten years on a barstool.

So, using the information he had not-so-pleasantly extracted from Izzie Stevens, he let his clipboard clatter to the counter, ready to look in every women's bathroom in Seattle Grace, hoping to find a dirty blonde intern-_his_ dirty blonde intern- leaning against a sink, waiting for him to grovel.

--

Addison Shepherd was not a cruel woman.

She was just a heartbroken wife and mother who was facing the possibility of losing both roles at once, a woman who had just been presented with the prospect of losing the husband that didn't really love her anymore. She was a woman who was presently debating about whether to let go without a fight, or whether to cling to her marriage desperately, giving up on whatever dignity she still had left.

"I don't know what to do anymore," she admitted, crossing her legs gracefully and leaning back, furrowing her eyebrows at the wedding photo Richard had displayed on his desk.

"You stay. You remind him of what it was like before the adultery."

"But how? He doesn't even want me here, Richard. It's like he doesn't even see me anymore, all he sees is that-that-"

"Don't take it out on Meredith," he chided softly, "she's a victim here, you all are. This is a bad situation that's only going to get worse."

"Maybe I should go back," she murmured, "I hate it here. There's too much rain here…too much goddamn rain."

"Addison…"

"I'm fine."

"You're a bad liar."

She glanced up, flushing.

"I'm a wreck," she moaned, "I can't even keep it together for my boss anymore."

With a sniffle, she pushed herself out of the buttery leather easy chair and began to pace.

"Addison."

"Mhmm?"

"Are you sure you want this job?"

"No."

"Then I can't give it to you."

"So that's it? I'm done? I crawl back to New York with my tail between my legs?"

"When you're ready, we'll talk. Until then, Addie…"

She nodded, entangling her fingers in her hair and blinking.

"I just need a couple days. Just to figure out what I'm going to do. Can you keep the position open?"

He sighed, leaning forward and slipping his glasses onto his nose. He shuffled through a stack of papers idly.

"I'll give you a week."

She let out a relieved breath, crossing back behind the desk while he stood up, wrapping him in a tight hug.

"I'll bring Hannah by to see you-she's missed you."

He chuckled, "I've missed her."

She smiled, a sweet smile that contrasted sharply with her earlier mood.

"You'll be okay Addie," he mused, holding her out at arms length, "Either way, you'll be okay."

And for a second-a moment- she believed him.

**AN: So, so sorry that it's been THIS LONG for an update. Seriously, I don't think I've ever gone this long, and I'm really sorry I made you guys wait. But, good news, I am now officially graduated. Which means all that's left now ****is**** work, college, and more work. ****Mhmm****, maybe ****leaving high school wasn't such a good idea….**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Don't worry, I was already planning a Hannah POV-hence the next chapter. Thanks for all the amazing reviews and keep em' coming!**

**P.S.- I did this in like an hour so it might not be edited that well but I felt like I should probably give you another chapter because you've been so patient---enjoy!**

"Mom? Can I go see Dad at work?"

The question was innocent enough, a request that a mother should have no hesitation in granting.

If not, then it was a question that Hannah could easily argue about to get her way in the end. In a way, she did want to visit him. She hadn't seen him in over two months, and his absence in New York had started to sting. But, despite the connection she wanted to renew with her father, there was also another, more secretive reason. A reason, she was sure, her mother would _not _approve of. It was because she, like every other child of separated parents, had a curious, overwhelming need to meet her dad's new girlfriend. At first it was just an idea, a dream. Just an imaginary scenario that she would think about every once and awhile.

But, as she'd thought about it more, a plan had formed. A plan that involved questions, endless questions that were not as innocent as the one she'd just asked her mother. Questions that would clear up the mysterious last few months and help figure out just exactly happened between her parents that caused one of them to move all the way across the country.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Addison asked hesitantly-she still wasn't sure if she wanted to stay.

"Actually, I was thinking you could drop me off. I haven't spent a lot of time with him, you know, with everything…"The red-head winced and Hannah knew she'd hit a nerve, "Listen, if you don't think it's a good idea-"

"No, I think it's a great idea. You deserve some time with him. You'll call when you need me to come pick you up?"

"I'll call."

"Good."

Addison turned back to the fight with the toaster that she was currently losing.

"Uh, Mom?"

"Yeah sweets?"

"Can we go?"

"Oh, yeah. Of course. Sorry, I didn't think you meant now-"

"I did."

"Right."

--

Meredith was better, really. Ask anyone and they'd tell you that she was smiling again; that she had made a complete turnaround in the shock-worthy time frame of less than 24 hours. Albeit, her smile was looking a _little_ fake, like she had duct-taped the corners of her lips up to her cheeks in the hopes of looking half-way normal but hey, at least she wasn't sobbing in the bathroom anymore.

"So what lecture did Bailey give you yesterday?" Water started to waterfall out of the faucet next to her and a shadow crept up her scrubs.

Christina.

"Nothing, surprisingly. She told me to pull myself together and get back to work."

"I wish she was my mother."

The blonde grunted, smiling another one of her weak, half-smiles and tying her scrub cap below her ponytail.

"So do you think I should beg Derek to take me back or should I keep being a depressed alcoholic who's gradually spiraling into a deep black pit of angst and self-pity?"

"Definitely the angst and self-pity. Then you can write a book about it later and sell millions of copies to women just as desperate and depressed as you are right now."

Christina pressed her thumb into a red button, letting the doors slide open for her.

"Okay, was that sarcasm? I can't tell anymore."

Christina threw a look over her shoulder to Meredith, who was wiping her hands on a towel provided by one of the nurses.

"Meredith, how long have you known me?"

"Uh…a couple months?"

"Exactly. You should know that I _never_ use sarcasm as a mechanism to mask the truth."

Silence.

"So that was sarcasm?"

"Can we get to work?" Burke cut in, glaring at his two interns.

"Yes, Dr. Burke," they chanted obediently.

Neither noticed the blonde mini-Meredith who was swinging her legs underneath the gallery bench patiently, leaning over in fascination to watch the surgery unfold, her eyes lighting with something similar to admiration.

--

Hannah's mind was reeling.

Her parents had always told her that watching them work was boring, that she should find things to do with her classmates. But that was…

She couldn't even describe it. It was like she knew, in that moment, that that was what she wanted to do. She wanted to tell an intern to get her a scalpel, she wanted to change into scrubs everyday for work; she wanted to save someone's life.

"God, that was amazing," she gushed to the interns two hours later as they brushed through the doors laughing.

Emotions flashed; shock, confusion, more shock.

"You're…"

"Your boyfriend's daughter. Yes."

She wasn't usually this bold, but something was pushing her, driving her, _forcing_ her to confront the blonde who broke up her parents.

"Um…" Meredith clutched at Christina's scrub shirt.

"I just want to talk. No yelling, no screaming, just a simple talk."

"O-o-okay…what's your name again?"

"Hannah. Did you know he was married?"

She sighed, letting her fingers fall limply to her side. Christina stayed, something glinting in her eyes.

"No," she said, barely audible, "I found out when you both showed up."

"So that was why you threw up in the bushes."

A strangled laugh.

"That was why I threw up in the bushes."

Hannah glanced down the hall warily.

"Are you a slut?"

She would be so grounded if her dad was here.

Christina laughed, "Kid, you'd be so dead if I called Shepherd right now."

Grounded, dead; same thing.

"I mean, not slutty, but you know…did you meet in a bar? Cause, I mean, my parents were having problems but a _girlfriend_? You're only what- sixteen years older than me? That's kind of young for my dad. Not _too_ young but, you know…"

"Was that all?" Meredith cut in, throwing a concerned look to Christina who was staring not-so-subtly at the girl.

"I guess."

"Then I have one question for you. But I really, _really_ need something to eat so…"

"Locker room?"

"Vending machines."

"Will you get me something, too?"

Meredith looked uneasy.

"It's just that I haven't eaten for awhile and I'm really hungry…otherwise I wouldn't ask but-"

"Something healthy," the older blonde offered, "I don't want to… overstep…or anything…"

"Agreed."

Meredith and Christina took off, letting Hannah trail behind to study patients' charts and look into rooms.

"She's you," Christina breathed as soon as Hannah was out of earshot, "It's like you got sucked into that machine on Honey I Shrunk the Kids and now you're…you're…._mini_."

Meredith laughed nervously.

"You've seen Honey I Shrunk the Kids?"

"Focus, Meredith- She. Is. You."

"She is _not_ me."

She glanced back at the girl, who was grinning at a temp frantically trying to keep up with a doctor.

"You can't tell me you haven't noticed the similarities," Christina argued, "You're identical. You're both blonde, you ramble, you both love McDreamy…"

"So we're blonde and we ramble-"

"And you love McDreamy."

"Whatever. So what if we're alike? What does that even mean?"

"I'm just saying."

"Yeah? Well what did you think I was going to ask her about?"

Christina looked confused.

"You mean you…"

"I had a kid, okay? It was a while ago, I was young, I gave her up and now…"

"You mean you…"

"Yes, okay? There is a slight, nearly-non-existent, less-than-one-percent chance she's mine."

"This is bad, Mer, this is _bad_."

"Yeah, I know. But she might not be mine, right?"

Christina shook her head, looking more than a little skeptical.

"If you're trying to convince me that you have a kid that same age who's _not_ Hannah then it would be my professional duty to force you to take a DNA test."

Meredith frowned, turning back again to watch Hannah.

"I'm screwed," Meredith moaned.

"You're screwed," Christina agreed.


	13. Chapter 13

It felt like someone was grasping at her neck and refusing to let go.

Hannah was chewing on a chocolate-chip granola bar, the paper flashing as she swung her legs back and forth underneath her. Christina was leaning against the wall with a knowing smile spread over her lips, sneaking glances at both of them when she thought they weren't looking while Meredith was trying to keep the clawing curiosity at bay, instead opting to nibble at her own granola bar half-heartedly. Eventually, she knew she'd have to ask. Eventually, the curiosity would eat away until she couldn't take the suspense, because after all, this could be her daughter. This could be the source of a very long, drawn-out next few weeks, and she needed to know if there was a reason for her to start panicking now. She needed to bite the bullet, get it over with, rip the band-aid.

"Hannah-" the hand was grasping desperately now, forcing the words back down her throat before she could choke them out, "Hannah I-"

Her voice sounded strangled and lost even to her own ears. Hannah looked up.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I-never mind, it's nothing."

"Tell me!"

"It's not important," Meredith assured before adding under her breath, "just me, losing my freaking mind."

"Well now I'm curious."

"It's noth-"

"She wants to know if you're her kid," Christina cut in impatiently before Meredith could pretend, again, that it was nothing.

The clock on the wall tracked the seconds turning into minutes. The granola bar wrapper fell to the floor, and Hannah's mouth stopped chewing.

"What?" she finally spat.

"I-I-"

"I love my parents, and I don't need new ones."

"She knows," Christina answered again, once it was clear that Meredith was sinking into a pool of embarrassment at the far end of the lockers and couldn't speak for herself, "She's just wondering because…you look like her. A lot like her. It actually makes me sick, how freakishly alike you two look...and she has a daughter about your age."

"If you're asking me if I was adopted then yeah, but the odds of _her_ being my mother are…"

"Do you know Mark Sloane?" The question came out clear and focused, unlike Meredith's earlier attempts at speaking.

Silence.

Christina rolled her eyes from the corner and Hannah's hand twitched. She looked scared, like her world had just stopped spinning.

"Yeah…why?"

She wasn't the only one.

"He-I-We…we used to…date. In high school. Nine years ago… and I got pregnant."

There. She had said it. And it sounded ten times more suspicious then the thousands of times that she had thought about it. It sounded like she was 100, no-joke, undeniably Hannah's biological mother.

And that freaking sucked.

"A-are you sure? Because it could have been another Mark Sloane, I mean…it's not that uncommon of a name…"

"Blue eyes, light brown hair….drop dead gorgeous?"

"Ew," Hannah said, momentarily forgetting the gravity of the situation, "but that doesn't mean-"

She cut short when Meredith started running for the bathroom, holding her mouth and clutching at her stomach.

She wanted to follow her.

"Do you think-God, could she really be my _mother_? I mean, that's the girl that my dad….my adoptive dad is…what are the odds of that?"

Christina shook her head, "I don't know why everyone's having such a hard time seeing it. You too are _identical_. No lie."

"I think I'm going to throw up."

"Like I said," she quipped, "_identical._"

She raised her eyebrows to emphasis her point.

"W-Where's my dad?"

Christina shrugged.

"Does he know?"

"Nope. And don't even think telling either Shepherd or the She-Shepherd about this. Because this little flip-out Mer had? Will be ten times worse."

"But I have to tell them, I mean…"

"You can tell them just not …now. Give them time to work things out first, okay?"

Hannah's eyes started to well and Christina looked on awkwardly.

"Listen," Christina began in an uncharacteristically warm tone, "I know this is probably…hard. But your Mom's great-Meredith I mean. You guys will…you're totally alike, so you'll get along. It'll be hard for a couple of weeks…or months, but eventually things will get better."

Hannah sniffled, wiping her nose on the back of her hand and glancing up with watery eyes at the intern who was now awkwardly patting her shoulder.

"Get a tissue," Christina ordered, breaking the mood, "I can feel the germs from here."

"I take it you don't have kids."

"Never have, never will," Christina announced proudly, stepping away from the nine-year-old to search for her best friend.

"I'm going to go…find my dad…"

"Remember not to tell him," She warned, "It would be really, really bad for him right now if he knew, okay?"

"Okay. I promise."

"Good. Don't get lost."

"I'm nine, not five."

"Right."

**AN: Like? Don't like? Let me know!!!!**


	14. Chapter 14

Meredith was wiping her mouth with toilet paper when Christina found her. Light fell through the window, making Christina wince before her eyes adjusted to the deserted bathroom. One of the sinks was still dripping beads of water out of the faucet but Meredith didn't seem to notice.

"She seems….mature for her age," Christina began hesitantly, lightly stepping over some toilet paper stuck to the floor. The blonde nodded in agreement, slumping over the sink. "She's smart. They raised her…."

"We should get back to work."

"You don't want to… talk or anything?"

"No."

"But you always want to-"

"Not today."

"Okay…."

Meredith sighed, "Look, Christina, this is a lot to take in. My kid is here, in this hospital, right now, looking for her adoptive dad who happens to be my ex boyfriend. My life is beginning to sound dangerously close to a soap opera and I hate soap operas so…"

"Yeah, but-"

"I'll be in the pit if you need me."

"Meredith-"

"What!"She burst, dangerously close to shouting, "What could we possibly talk about that would make this okay? "

"You could at least admit that this is a big deal!"

Meredith pushed past her friend angrily and wrenched open the door. The next few seconds were slow, and Meredith felt like she had just lost her balance and was falling towards something that she really didn't want to fall towards. Behind the door, hand raised up like he was about to knock, was Derek Shepherd.

She had only gotten a glimpse of his open mouth and searching eyes before she pressed her palms to the wood to shut the door again. Whirling around and forcing her weight into keeping it shut against his pounding protests, she let out a long breath of air and tried to ignore the self-satisfied smirk playing across Christina's lips.

She couldn't.

"What's so funny?" Meredith demanded.

"Oh, nothing. Just the fact that for once you can't run away from your problems and pretend they don't exist."

"I don't-"

"Yes you do."

More pounding.

"Don't even try to open this door, Christina," she warned, "I swear to God if you-"

"Derek! Hi. Meredith was just getting ready to talk to you. Won't you come in?"

He did.

"We need to talk," he began, making room for Christina to pass him. Meredith's eyes went wide, and she frantically tried to grab at her friend's lab coat.

"Christina, please...I-I-I've already done one heart-to-heart I don't think I can take another-"

Anxious blue eyes met brown and Christina, for a second, realized just how much Meredith was dreading her talk with Derek. Her legs barely looked like they could hold her up and her face had lost any color that'd been there two minutes before.

"Mer, are you okay?"

_No_, she wanted to yell_, I'm most definitely _**not**_ okay_. But Derek was here, and Derek thought her only problem was that he hadn't picked her. Derek thought he was the reason she was in a bathroom, again, in the middle of her shift.

Derek, who was here to apologize for something that didn't even really seem that important to her at this point.

She latched onto the sink, her knuckles turning white with pressure.

"Fine," she gritted out, "Just don't-don't leave, okay?"

Derek's forehead creased with familiar worry.

"Mer, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she snapped, not turning away from her best friend, "Please, Christina."

"You have to talk to him sometime."

"Christina…"

"Okay," she broke their gaze and turned to Derek, "McDreamy? I'm going to be the mediator. So if someone says something….bad, or if Meredith doesn't want to answer a question-"

"Question? I'm here to explain-"

"If she doesn't want to answer a question," Christina repeated firmly, "Then I'll break up the session and you guys will have to do it on your own time. Alone."

Meredith's eyes went wide.

"Now's good," she choked out.

"Good."

"Let me get this straight," Derek cut in, "You're going to be giving us a self-help session in the middle of the women's bathroom at Seattle Grace?"

Christina pretended to think.

"Yes."

"You?"

"Yes."

"Mer, are you sure we need this?"

"Yes."

"Okay," he consented, before sweeping his gaze over his surroundings, "Can you believe I've never been in here before now?"

--

Hannah had looked everywhere- the nurses station, the OR, the cafeteria, on-call rooms, janitors closets, the basement. She'd asked interns, residents, and now she was moving on to Chief Webber to recruit for her 'find dad before mom finds out I haven't been with him all day' mission.

She didn't knock, she knew he wouldn't mind.

"Chief!" she greeted happily, and he slipped off his glasses to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"Hannah? You're huge!"

She rolled her eyes, "Mark says that all the time."

"Well, he's right," he said, before squinting at the empty space behind her, "Where's your mom?"

"Home. I'm actually looking for my dad…"

"Mmm…actually I haven't seen him yet today. But I do have some medical cases that are pretty crazy…."

She smiled, quickly trying to figure out approximately how mad her mother would be if she hung out with the Chief instead of her dad. She doubted it would be monumentally earth shattering.

"Like what?"

"Come here, I'll show you."

**AN: Another short-ish chapter. ****sorry. And it's a little choppy. But this is kind of a filler for the 'big talk' between Derek and Meredith and some other stuff so yeah. I should probably ****be writing my thank-you cards for graduation gifts but this is so much better!!**

** Reviews are so amazing!!!! **


	15. Chapter 15

"Okay," Christina began, "So who wants to start?"

Derek raised his hand hesitantly, like he was in grade school and waiting for the teacher to call on him.

Meredith rolled her eyes.

"What? You want to go first?" he offered.

She shook her head.

"Okay then. I'm sorry," he glanced over at Christina warily, "but can you go into a stall or something?"

"They're not sound proof."

"I know, but just so that you're not there….spectating."

"That's what I'm supposed to do-make sure that Meredith doesn't kill you."

"Meredith, will you kill me?"

She hesitated a second before shaking her head.

"She won't kill me."

"She hesitated."

"Yeah, what was with that?"

"I won't kill you, now can we get this over with please?"

Christina let out a grumble of annoyance before shuffling off to one of the stalls and pulling the door shut behind her. The click of the lock resounded against the walls, and Derek turned back to face Meredith, eyes pleading.

"I didn't tell you."

She snorted and folded her arms across her chest, "Glad we agree."

"I'm sorry."

"Uh huh."

"Mer-"

"Listen, this conversation is completely unnecessary. We obviously had different ideas about what our relationship meant, but it's over-we move on."

"What if I don't want to move on?"

"Then you don't get what you want."

"You're seriously considering just letting us walk away from the past two months?"

"You're seriously considering fixing this?" she shot back.

His shoulders slumped, and his entire body seemed to curl forward in something close to defeat. She wanted to reach up and brush her fingertips against his arm, but she fought against the impulse. A voice carried over the stall door, and their heads both turned reflexively towards the sound.

"Stop avoiding," Christina shouted, louder than necessary, "He wants you, you want him, so go for it."

A smile tugged at the corners of Derek's mouth, a smile that made Meredith's knees weaken despite her better judgment.

"Listen to Yang," he prompted playfully, the angst from two minutes ago melting into something warm.

"Aren't you supposed to be on my side?" She whined, ignoring the man in front of her who was suddenly looking a lot better.

"If you were being reasonable? Yes. Now? No."

"Christina…"

"If you don't listen to him, I'll have to hear about it for the next month."

"I promise I won't bitch to you," she offered.

"Meredith, just listen to him. This is coming from me, Christina Yang, your best friend, who's as dark and twisty as you are. Listen to him."

"No," Meredith said, turning to look at Derek, "There are things you don't know- things that don't have anything to do with you having a wife and a kid that you didn't tell me about. Things that would have you running in the opposite direction if you knew so just…just stop trying to fix this, okay? It's just wrong on so many levels."

She tapped on the stall door that hid her best friend and rocked back on her heels.

"Mer, I-"he stammered, but she cut off his sputtering.

"Christina, I'm done."

A tangle of dark hair appeared as the door creaked open, and Christina stepped out almost shyly.

"She's done," the Asian intern repeated firmly after seeing the frantic deer-in-the-headlights look on Meredith's face.

"Can't you just tell me what the things are so that I can decide for myself if they're going to make me run in the opposite direction?"

"No."

"I think it's a little unfair that you're making that decision for me."

"Well, it's not."

Christina was looking back and forth between them like she was watching a particularly intriguing ping-pong match.

"What would you call it then?"

She paused, "Sparing you?"

He scoffed.

"You don't really believe that, do you?"

"I have to go," she mumbled, before slipping past him and clasping her fingers around the door handle, "Christina?"

"We're going," Christina added, with a swift nod in his direction. He cocked his head.

"Thank you, Christina."

The sarcasm was just barely noticeable in the undertones of his voice.

--

Richard Webber had known all along that Hannah was really Meredith's daughter. It would have been obvious even if he hadn't had an affair with Ellis. The golden hair, the green eyes-he was surprised that no one had figured it out before now. The second he had seen Addison and Hannah, he had thought it was all over, that the secret was out. But the characters scuttling around Seattle Grace were oblivious, it seemed, only focusing on the betrayal that Dr. Grey was obviously struggling to cope with.

The only person that had shown a flicker of recognition was Yang, and he hoped to God that she'd figure it all out soon so that he could stop being the only one who knew.

"Done!" Hannah exclaimed, dropping her pen on to the stack of old medical records and pushing her chair back. He held up a stopwatch and squinted down at the numbers.

"You were 20 seconds faster," he said proudly, "That's a new record."

She smiled, but the smile quickly slipped off her face as an awkward silence weaved between them. She wrung her hands together nervously, sinking down into the chair opposite Chief Webber's.

"Do you, I mean …what do you think of Dr. Grey?"

"Meredith?" He could feel the sweat start to dot the tips of his fingers, "She's….why do you want to know?"

"No reason! Just wondering, cause of my dad and her…"

"Oh. She's nice, you'll like her."

Hannah fell silent and he breathed an inward sigh of relief. He wanted, more than anything, to avoid being the one to tell her that her biological mother was the woman her adoptive dad had been sleeping with.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine."

"Good."

He sighed, "Why don't you go find your dad."

**AN: Sorry that took soooooo long. I'm in a play, and we had two tech weeks instead of one and the performances are this weekend so, you can imagine, I was a little busy. But hopefully after the opening-night excitement dies down I'll be able to write more---thanks for your patience and reviews!!! **

**They're much appreciated. **


	16. Chapter 16

Mark Sloane had been a part of his daughter's life since she had been born.

Birthdays, recitals, hospital visits-he was there, holding a gift bag, or flowers, or chocolate. He came over every weekend just to see her, just to twirl her around and listen to her soft giggle of delight, to make sure that she was still safe and happy, to make sure she knew he cared.

Sometimes he wondered if the reason he was so involved in Hannah's life was because of Meredith, because he couldn't be involved in Meredith's life. The guilt had been gnawing at him since high school and it was completely plausible that subconsciously he was trying to get rid of the image of Meredith's broken expression by doting on his daughter.

But then he'd remember how much he needed Hannah, how much he loved her, and he'd realize that even if things had been different, even if he'd stayed with Meredith, he'd still bring gift bags and flowers and chocolate to Hannah, if just to watch her face light up, her glittering eyes tilted towards his.

That was why he was here, sitting across from Richard to beg for a job that he didn't really want, in a city that he didn't really like, thousands of miles away from home.

"So, tell me why I should let you stay here," Richard said from across the table, reclining back in his chair with a coffee mug wrapped in one hand.

"Because I'm the best," he said simply, "and I know…some of the people here."

"Can you name one of them who would be glad to see you?"

He paused, "Hannah?"

Richard sighed, "Hannah is your daughter. What about Derek? Or Addison?"

Richard didn't feel the need to mention Meredith, he'd let Mark deal with that one on his own.

"Derek and Addison are a part of my personal life. I'd hope that we'd all be able to remain professional at work."

"I'm sure they would."

The subtle jab isn't lost on Mark.

"As would I."

"We'll see."

"With all due respect, sir," Richard picks up on the sarcasm and frowns, "Does that mean I'm getting the position?"

"I don't want to give you this job," The Chief admitted, "The problems this will cause…"

He could feel it slipping away from him.

"Richard, I honestly don't think that what's happened in the past should have _anything_ to do with you hiring me. You know my work, you know I'm the best, and you know that Seattle Grace needs me. _You _need me."

Silence.

His shoe tapped the floor anxiously and he tried to appear unfazed, professional, and confident.

He just wished he actually felt that way.

Then, in a voice that made Mark sit up a little in his chair and unclasp his now-white hands, Richard spoke, "Two months."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm giving you a two month test period. If you can make it through that time without making me feel like I'm in an episode of General Hospital , then you can stay."

The plastic surgeon grinned widely and stood up to shake Richard's hand.

"You won't regret it," he assured, backing out of the office, "I swear."

"I better not," the Chief grumbled, lifting himself out of his chair by his arms to follow Mark out the door, snorting as Mark held the door open for him, "You don't need to suck up any more, Sloane, you already tricked me into giving you a chance."

"It comes naturally," Mark said, grin still firmly in place.

--

"So I heard the Chief just signed on a new doc," Christina offered, mainly because she was becoming increasingly annoyed with the lack of conversation at their two-person lunch table, "Maybe you can sleep with him and find out he has a family he didn't tell you about, too."

"Mhmm," Meredith replied noncommittally, lazily prodding at her strawberry yogurt.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Mhmm."

"Burke asked me to scrub in with him on his open heart surgery later today."

"Mhmm."

"Great, just great. Now my best friend has decided to fly off to never-never land where apparently she doesn't care about surgery anymore. And… I'm talking to myself," she tipped her chair back so that it was only resting on the back two legs, "seriously."

"Surgery? Wait, what was that?"

The chair tipped forward, and her posture lengthened out so that she no longer appeared to have a hunchback.

"Thank god. I thought I'd lost you."

Meredith laughed weakly, like someone had just told a joke but she didn't really get it, "Okay, Christina. Whatever you say."

"Where were you just now?"

Meredith flushed, "What do you mean?"

"Oh my god. You were thinking about him again."

Her face became, if possible, a deeper shade of scarlet.

"That's, what? Ten million times in the last five hours?"

"Not exactly _ten million_…"

"Meredith, this is getting pathetic. You won't talk to him, but you think about him constantly, you duck whenever he enters the room, and frankly? You look like a freak when that happens. You ignore him, you-"

"Alright alright!!! Jesus. What do you want me to do?"

"Fix this!"

"How?"

"I don't know, but I do know that I'm losing my freaking mind."

"_You're_ losing _your_ mind? I can't even focus on a conversation for five minutes."

"Believe me, I know."

They both sighed in unison, not realizing how alike they looked, both with one hand latched on to a plastic spoon and both with identical blank expressions splashed across their faces.

"We're screwed."

Meredith nodded hopelessly, sinking back into her chair and secretly wishing she could go home and crawl under the covers to forget about the mess she had managed to turn her life into.

**AN: Geeze why are these taking so long to write? Seriously. And I'm not even that happy with this story now that I'm reading over it again but oh well. Keep reviewing, maybe it will inspire me!!!**


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: To answer a question….**

**The reason Mark's not taking care of Hannah by himself is because he didn't really want to be a 'dad' persay. All he wanted was to be in her life, avoiding the whole responsibility thing which kind of fits with my view of Mark's character on the show. He wanted her to be close by, so he convinced Meredith to let the Shepherds adopt Hannah. The rest, they say, is history. **

_The first time he saw her, he'd known that he wanted to date her. Now, as he was standing on her doorstep and waiting for her to slam the door in his face, he found the thought reappearing. __Although she had grown her hair out into its original dirty blonde and her stomach was considerably larger, she still looked the same to him; green eyes that looked gray in the sun, wrists that he could surround__ with his thumb and forefinger, black, loving scuffed-up converse on her feet. _

_She was Meredith, and something as simple as not slamming the door in his face was enough to make him want her again. _

_"You're here," she sighed._

_"I'm here."_

_She wasn't looking at him with an openly hostile expression, but he was sure that she would by the end of the __conversation. _

_"Are they here, too?" she asked, standing on her tip-toes to see behind him. _

_"They couldn't make it. They had this big exam for medical school and-"_

_Her eyes narrowed dangerously, "You came and you didn't _bring_ them? How the hell am I supposed to give my child over to them if I've never even met them?"_

_He tried to ignore her use of 'my child' instead of 'our child'. I deserve it, he __thought__ reluctantly. He motioned to the empty space behind her, "Can I come in?"_

_She pushed the door a couple of inches wider, abandoning him and moving towards the __living room. He sighed, leaning against the doorframe and making no__ move to accept her unenthusiastic invitation._

_"I thought you were the one who wanted to come in?"_

_"Not when you're being-" he stopped himself, knowing automatically that he had gone too far. The flush of anger accenting her cheekbones confirmed it. _

_"What was that?" she snapped._

_"Nothing," he backpedaled furiously, "nothing. So I was thinking…"_

_"Not a good way to start."_

_"Can you stop with the insults, please? Addison, that's one of my friends, she wants to talk to you, but they can't get away. Would you be up for a phone conversation? Email?"_

_"I'm supposed to hand over Evelyn to someone I've only talked to through email?"_

_He shrugged, like he couldn't understand why she was making such a big deal out of this, "Or __the __phone."_

_He was now only a few feet away from her, close enough to see the pinprick of tears in the corners of her eyes. __He was close enough to reach out and…._

_S__he sniffled and looked at h__im with those gray-green eyes and h__e suppressed the urge to kiss her, instead stepping back __far enough so that he couldn't __smell lavender anymore. _

_"I-I'll get Addison on the phone. See? I'm dialing…it's ringing…"_

_She nodded, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and sinking into the couch, nearly disappearing behind the cushions. _

_"Addison! Hey, Meredith wants to talk to you…okay, here she is…."_

_He held the phone out for her to take, but she hesitated a second. Frustrated, he wrapped his fingers over the receiver and bent in to hiss, "Meredith, take the phone."_

_She bit her lip, before snatching it out of his hands and taking it with her upstairs. He stood, confused for a second before he heard the door slam. Shoving his hands into his jeans, he glanced up briefly before turning to inspect the pictures lined up haphazardly on the mantle. _

_One of Meredith and her mother, on one of their better days; another of Meredith sitting piggy-back on her father's back, giggling up at the camera; __and then, of course, there they were, Mark and Meredith leaning on the hood of his car. Neither of them were smiling, but it wasn't that they didn't look happy, or in love, it was that they were too wrapped up in each other to even notice the flash of the camera. _

_It was like one of those 80's romance movie posters,__ the guy looking down at the girl and the girl looking up at the guy._

_It was them. _

"He's here," she mumbled pathetically, ignoring the flashes of memory pricking her mind.

"Who's here?"

"Shit! I think he saw me."

"Who saw you?"

"Izzie! Hide me!"

"I won't hide you until you tell me who I'm hiding you from."

"Mark Sloane just walked out of the Chief's office," Meredith gritted out impatiently, ducking behind a tray full of nurses supplies while Izzie inspected her nails. The blonde looked up at the name.

"Oh my god. Mark Sloane? He's so hot. Did you read that last medical journal where they did an article about him cutting off that guys face?"

"Izzie! Focus!"

"We totally have to nickname him. What about…sex god who Isobel Stevens is currently having very, very inappropriate thoughts about right now? I think that pretty much sums it up…"

"Izzie! Stop thinking whatever the _hell_ you're thinking and freaking hide me!"

"Why? Do you know him or something? Can you hook us up?"

"We used to date, Iz," she confessed, still crouching beneath patients charts and ventilators, "and no, I can't hook you up."

Izzie frowned, "Why not?"

"Because. Now shush! He's coming this way."

She held a finger to her lips and sunk closer to the floor.

"He's a few feet away," Izzie reported dutifully out of the corner of her mouth, "Closer….closer…."

"Why is there a doctor under the table?"

Shit.

Meredith wanted to scream or cry or _something_ but instead she crossed her legs underneath her and settled in for a lifetime on the floor of Seattle Grace.

"What doctor? There's no doctor," her eyes widened in enthusiasm, "Hey, are you single?"

Meredith rolled her eyes. She could feel Mark's smirk.

"Sort of. How about I get back to you at the end of the day?"

Izzie laughed and moved to cover Meredith's hunched figure.

"I suppose I can wait. But be warned, I'm not a very patient girl."

"Duly noted. See you around…"

"Izzie Stevens."

"Izzie. That's cute," he threw one last glance at the nurses tray before sauntering away, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans while Izzie looked on adoringly.

"Do you want to tell me what that was about?" Izzie asked casually, still drinking in the sight of Sloane's leather-clad back disappearing around a corner. She looked like she was about to drool.

"Ditto," Meredith shot back, disgusted at both Izzie's behavior and the discovery of unidentified stuff littering the floor.

"Oh, come on I was just flirting. If you want him, take him."

Meredith scoffed, but accepted the hand Izzie offered to help her up.

"I don't _want_ him," she insisted, "I just can't see how you do."

Izzie blinked.

"Where you looking at the same man as I was?"

"Um…"

"That's how."


	18. Chapter 18

Izzie Stevens was honest-to-God, no joke, cross- her- heart- and –hope- to- die falling for Mark Sloane. Well, not _falling_ falling, obviously, considering they had technically only had one conversation, but she was definitely falling in lust. And, to her credit, wouldn't anyone? He was charming, straight, and drop dead gorgeous. She just hoped he wasn't already tied down. Licking her fingers and settling in for a five minute primp in front of the mirror, she wasn't exactly paying attention to the pouty, eyebrow-raising dirty blonde intern watching her from the bench in front of the lockers. The intern, who, at this moment, was not finding her suddenly love struck roommate as charming as said roommate found Mark Sloane.

"Do you _have _to ignore my advice?"

"What advice?" Izzie asked, not turning away from the mirror but instead copying Meredith's pout and entangling her fingers in her hair to give it more volume.

"My advice about not sleeping with Mark."

"Pfft. Like I would sleep with him on the first date."

"Izzie, you're primping in front of the locker-room mirror and wearing an extremely disturbing 'I'm about to pounce' expression. I think advice is needed."

Izzie looked bored. George, who had been pulling his scrub top over his head, shifted his attention to the women, "Who's Mark Sloane?"

"This totally hot guy that Meredith doesn't want me to do."

"It's not that I don't want you to do him, it's that I don't trust him."

"Why not?"

"Because," Meredith mumbled self consciously, her voice trailing off.

"Thanks for your help, Mer. I'll be sure to keep that in mind while he's on top of me."

"Izzie!" George protested, "Meredith's just looking out for you…right Meredith?"

"Yeah."

"See?"

Izzie rolled her eyes, "Thanks, really. I appreciate the advice and I will…." She seemed to be struggling with words, "try to follow it."

"That's all I'm asking."

Izzie turned back to the mirror, pulling out a tube of lipstick from her purse.

Meredith threw her hands up in defeat.

--

It was strange how at home he could be in a city so different from New York just because she was here. Unfortunately, she did still have her wedding ring perched mockingly on the ring finger of her left hand and true, she didn't look happy to see him when she finally did look his way, but they were here, in Seattle, and technically she was still separated from Derek.

The familiar stab of hope crept through him even as her eyes narrowed and her heels clicked furiously against the tile. Just seeing her was enough to get his pulse racing again.

"What the _hell _are you doing here?" she demanded in a harsh, low whisper once she was close enough for him to hear. He stepped closer to move a stray lock of hair behind her ear, ignoring her tone and leaving almost no room between them.

"I came for you."

"Bullshit."

He shrugged, "And Hannah. But I missed you and-"

"Don't," she warned, one mildly painful finger jabbing at his chest, "don't even _think_ about charming me again."

"I'm not charming you, I promise. I genuinely missed you. Really missed you. I was even making up fake conversations with you in my head last week."

She scoffed, "Yeah, right. And Derek and I have the perfect marriage."

He leaned closer, his nose almost, _almost_ grazing her neck, "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you didn't."

She shivered, unwillingly reacting to his proximity and the way his breath tickled her ear. Without really meaning to, she began to remember what it was like to be with Mark, what it was like waking up to him instead of Derek, what it was like to _want_ him instead of Derek. Her head inclined instinctively towards his and he grinned despite himself.

"You do _not_ get to do this to me right now," she said, her mood shifting from mildly turned on to openly hostile as she whirled away from him to stalk off to one of her patient's rooms. He took off too, seemingly unfazed by the exchange. He had expected it, after all.

The brown eyes watching the scene from the elevators, however, were narrowed dangerously in his general direction. Izzie had hoped for a full, blissful shift that maybe she would be getting laid tonight, and now that that was obviously not happening, her temper began to flare.

To Izzie, it wasn't so much that she had lost Mark Sloane, it was that someone like Addison could have two men while someone like her didn't have any. She was the ex-model; didn't that count for anything anymore? And he'd seemed sort-of interested before, right?

She hadn't realized that she was thinking aloud until a bored, tired monotone answered back.

"I told you, don't expect anything from Mark Sloane."

"No you didn't," she shot back, increasingly annoyed with the green-eyed blonde, "You told me not to sleep with him, which implies that I should definitely expect something from Mark Sloane."

Meredith sighed, ignoring the part of her that was growing more and more curious about the obvious connection between Mark and Addison, "Izzie, just go for someone else."

Izzie's lips tightened, "I can't believe it was _her_. I can't believe that he gave up string-less sex for a married woman who clearly has no interest in him."

"Maybe they already had sex," Meredith suggested reluctantly, not really wanting to picture it. This situation was already confusing enough.

"Yeah, but it wouldn't have been string-less."

"Okay, Iz. I think it's time to get you home."

"But she turned him down, so maybe…"

"No, Iz. You know as well as I do that it's not cool to go after someone else's man candy."

"But-but she's _married_."

"Yeah, well, life's not fair."

"But she's married."

"I know, Izzie," Meredith murmured, "believe me, I know."

**AN: Another filler, sorry. Totally not planning these, I swear. Next chapter I'll really try to incorporate Derek's POV-we haven't heard from him in a while. Let me know what you think, as always.**

**P.S. sorry it's so short. **


	19. Chapter 19

Derek had, for the first time since becoming a surgeon, found his mind wandering towards a blonde intern while drilling a hole through another man's brain.

He had almost finished the first stage of endoscopic brain surgery when, like a light flickering on in his brain, he'd experienced a jolt of something completely Meredith. He couldn't really explain the feeling, except that it was similar to the one he had whenever he caught her watching one of his complex surgeries from the gallery back when they were together; a small swell of pride to know that she was watching, and that he was _good._

Distracted by the sudden recurrence of the feeling, he had straightened up, cracked his neck, stretched, and tried to shake off whatever fleeting sentiment he'd just had. Almost as if it had never been there, the light flicked off and the feeling vanished. He went back to work.

Half an hour later, the jolt happened again. He had smiled and glanced up at the gallery window, fully expecting to see her green eyes looking back down at him, but she wasn't there.

"Yang, have you seen Meredith?"

"You're thinking about Meredith while you have some guy's brains on the table?"

He laughed shakily and held out the clamp for her to hold while he cracked his knuckles, "I just haven't seen her in awhile."

"You've been in surgery for four hours."

"Never mind."

She eyed him strangely for a second before sighing and turning back to the man on the table, motioning for him to do the same. They went back to work.

Half an hour later, he was grinning broadly and announcing to the room that he had successfully removed the tumor.

A couple of the nurses applauded, and a slow, genuine smile crept its way on to Christina's face, "Wow, you really-wow! You didn't kill him!"

He frowned, "Did you expect me to?"

"Yes-well, no. I just…you're drilling into a guy, pushing back the tissue, and removing a tumor. Not a lot of people can say they've done that successfully."

"I'm not most people."

"Clearly," she said, then added in a voice barely audible, "not everyone can break a girl like Meredith."

His eyes narrowed, "What was that, Yang?"

"Nothing, _Shep_. Just that Meredith's making frequent trips to Joe's because of you."

"Yang, I wouldn't go any further if I were you."

His words were even, measured, low. She could barely hear him, but held her gloved hands up in mock-surrender anyway.

"Whatever. Just realize how much she's going through right now."

He snapped off his gloves, throwing them in a nearby wastebasket and brushing past her on his way out. Just before reaching the sliding doors connected to the scrub room, he looked over his shoulder.

"Tell her I'm sorry."

--

"I'm sorry? That's seriously all he said?"

"Yep. Did I mention he saved a guys life today?"

Meredith looked confused, "Isn't that his job?"

"Yeah, but this was an endoscopic surgery, Mer. This was hardcore."

"I thought only like five surgeons in the world could do that."

"Uh-huh. And he didn't kill the guy."

"Wow."

"I know."

"So what did you say?"

"Nothing. Just that you were going to Joe's a lot, but that was before."

"So you basically told him I was an alcoholic?"

Christina shifted uncomfortably, "No…." before she could think up an excuse, she noticed something move above Meredith's left shoulder. Squinting, she tried to make out who it was, "Meredith-"

Footsteps. It was a man, she could tell that now, and he was headed straight for her best friend.

It was too late to warn her now.

--

For the first time in his life, Mark Sloane had nowhere to sit.

Having no idea where Addison or Derek were- and not really believing they'd have lunch with him- he was left alone with a tray full of barely-edible food in the middle of the outdoor Seattle Grace cafeteria after a hellish morning full of paperwork.

And then he saw her.

Her hair was pulled into a loose bun at the nape of her neck and she was tipping back a bottle of water, something between a grimace and a smile working its way onto her lips. She looked mildly interested in what the woman across from her was saying-she was nodding at certain intervals-but it was obvious her mind was elsewhere. Taking one last gulp of water, he watched her set the bottle down and make a grab for the yogurt container on her tray.

He could only see her profile, but he knew it was her. He'd know her anywhere, after the way she'd looked at him the last time he saw her.

She hadn't noticed him yet, and before he could fully comprehend what he was doing his legs were propelling him towards her.

The Asian woman saw him first and tried to warn Meredith, but she was too late, and before he knew it the words were slipping out, one after the other, nine years of guilt wrapped up in one long string of words that didn't even make sense to _him_, let alone her.

"I didn't mean to-I didn't want to leave you, believe me…I'm sorry, for the way I left and the way I ended things. Hannah, she just….the idea of having a _baby_, I mean, I was still in high school for God's sakes I didn't know how amazing she'd be or how much it would hurt you…" when the woman just stared, no recognition sparking behind her green eyes, he began to worry, "You-you're….You _are_ Meredith Grey, right?"

She looked scared.

"She's Meredith Grey," her friend interjected when it was clear that the blonde was unable to speak, "Who the hell are you?"

"Mark Sloane…" he held out his hand, still dumbfounded that she was _here_, in Seattle, with Addie and Derek and Hannah. The blonde's eyes widened.

"Christina Yang," she greeted before turning back to Meredith and giving her a noticeable thumbs up.

Meredith rounded on Christina, spitting her words out like fire.

"Do you know what he did?" she asked, "Do you know what he put me through when I was seventeen and pregnant?"

"Mer…"

"Don't. Christina? We're leaving."

"Wait, Mer, I'm sorry…God I'm sorry. If I could take it back…"

"But you can't."

He nodded.

"I know."

"You can't expect me to forgive you."

"I know."

Her voice lowered, "Do you see her? In New York?"

He didn't hesitate, "Yes."

"She's smart."

He nodded again, seriously beginning to wonder if he could come up with some other gesture, "So you've met her?"

"You mean the daughter I was forced to give up? Yeah."

She wrapped her arms around herself and looked down at her converse. His temper flared.

"Wait a minute. I didn't _force_ you to do anything. You wanted to give her up for adoption, and I just gave you a family that was trustworthy!"

"And look how well that turned out."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean," she gritted out, "look who just divorced."

"They're just separated, Meredith," he winced inwardly, "They'll work it out."

"I don't care," she mumbled.

"Well it sounded like you-"

"I don't care!" she shouted, and several heads turned in their direction. She pursed her lips, "I can't do this."

"What, so you're going to run away?"

"What else is there for me to do? You want me to argue with you all day?"

"Maybe, if that's what it takes to get you to talk to me."

"And what would I say?"

He opened his mouth, reply halfway out of his mouth when, as powerful as it was unexpected, a fist collided with his left cheekbone. A shock of pain filled him with one, insane, thought-that he'd have to get stitches. Then, he was up, a feather light touch on his arm-Meredith, as she helped him to his feet- and he groaned, clutching his jaw with one hand as the other clung to the small blonde intern supporting his weight.

"Okay, so I know I deserved that but-"

Meredith was looking between the two of them, brows knitted together.

"You're right, you did deserve that."

"Derek, what the hell? We were just talking-" Meredith assured, leaning against the chair she'd just abandoned to pull Mark to his feet.

"This isn't about you, Meredith."

She shrunk back like she'd been slapped and Mark jumped in instinctively, "Hey, don't bring her into this!"

"You don't even know her Mark, so stop trying to hurt me," Derek hissed.

"Hurt you? What the hell do you mean?"

"Don't try to deny it, okay? You knew that I was seeing Meredith and now you're trying to move in on her."

Silence.

Both men turned to her, identical incredulous looks splashed across each face.

"Huh?"

**AN: Another cliffhanger. I made this one longer, did you notice? **

**Review, as always. **


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: To answer a question…the person who said huh was Mark. **

"Meredith, what's he talking about?"

"You didn't know? How could you not know? Wait," Derek paused to think, "then why were you talking to her?"

Christina mumbled something under her breath and faked a cough. Derek was blinking stupidly at both Meredith and Mark, like he was trying to picture it in his mind but something was blocking it, forcing the idea out.

"We...uh..we dated a while ago and..."

"Meredith, what's he talking about?" Derek asked, mimicking Mark.

She swayed, stumbling a little, but Christina latched onto her elbow and pulled her upright before she sink lower than the edge of the table. Mark frowned, beginning to wonder if she was seriously sick; her expression was blank and she was even more pale than usual. Christina, reading Mark's thoughts, quickly assured him that Meredith was fine.

"It's just stress. She gets like this a lot."

"Does she need to…lie down or something?"

"Nah. Meredith? Want to answer Derek's question? The one about you having sex with Mark ten years ago?"

Meredith groaned and looked up.

"Alright, alright, so I was stupid enough to sleep with Mark-"

"Hey!"

"You _slept _with _Mark_?"

"But that doesn't mean," she plowed on, ignoring both men again, "that I'm any less mad at the two of you now."

"Mad? Why are you mad at me? I didn't do anything to you…recently," Mark added hastily after seeing her expression. When it didn't soften he tried again, "You look great?"

"You," she snapped, one long finger pointed at his chest for the second time in ten minutes, "_You_, left me pregnant after a _four year relationship_ because-wait a minute-I'm still unclear about the why. You," she repeated, not giving Mark enough time to breath let alone answer her question-instead beginning to round on Derek, "led me on while you had a wife and a kid waiting for you back in New York. I am _not_ the one who fucked up this situation."

"You didn't tell her you were married?"

"Did you tell her why I left Addison?"

Mark fell silent, and Meredith brought a hand up to rest on her hip. She wasn't feeling sick anymore- nine years of anger were bleeding out of her and she was feeling strangely bold.

"Why did you leave Addison, Derek?" Meredith asked in an ersatz-innocent voice that made Mark inwardly cringe.

"Because I found them in bed together," Derek announced, almost proudly, "_my_ bed, actually."

Meredith pursed her lips, trying her hardest to ignore her best friend's expression of gleeful shock .

"You two are _impossible_!" she hissed, "And Mark, don't you dare try to turn that into some kind of compliment because it's not."He shut his half-open mouth reluctantly, "I'm sick of you two already, and we've only been together for fifteen minutes!"

"Did I mention he had sex with my wife?"

"Did _I_ mention that this entire conversation is getting us nowhere?" Mark complained, "Can't we just agree that we all made mistakes and move past them?"

"Easy for you to say, you're the one who made all the mistakes!"

"Hello-wife and daughter?"

"Shut up! Both of you, just…. God, can you be quiet for like ten seconds? I'm getting a major headache here," Meredith whined.

"You're love life is _so _much more interesting than mine right now," Christina observed, a smile playing on her lips.

"Yeah? Want to switch?"

"No. Thanks for asking, though."

"Well? What are we going to tell Addison?" Mark asked, after it was clear that no one else was going to.

Meredith felt her confidence deflate, and suddenly she was back to being the almost-fainting girl who was having a hard time remembering her name let alone the soap opera that had become her life.

"Oh, God. Addison," Derek moaned, "She's not going to be happy that I'm not only dating an intern, but that that intern just happens to be the biological mother of her kid."

"Dating? Who says we're dating?"

"We're not?"

"She broke up with you after you're wife showed up," Mark supplied helpfully.

Derek glared.

"Meredith, I'm sor-"

"Can I get back to work now?" she asked, feeling a wave of overwhelming exhaustion suddenly slip over her, "I'll talk to you two later, okay? Just not when I'm dangerously close to murdering you."

"Is that a new sex game?" A voice called from the other side of the cafeteria, where a redhead bombshell stood with her arms crossed over her chest, wearing an expression or mild curiosity. She had already begun to make her way over to them, "The victim and the criminal… sounds kinky."

"Addison-"

"I'm not talking to you, Mark, I'm talking to my husband and his mistress. Can we have some privacy?" she snapped.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"There's something you need to know."

"Do you really think now's the best time?" Derek muttered.

"No," Mark admitted while Addison's eyebrows creased deeper into her forehead, "But when else are we going to tell her? When Hannah's thirty?"

"Possibly," Derek said, before he decided to give up and let all hell break loose. After all, his marriage and affair had both gone up in flames within the last year; what more could he loose?

**AN # 2: I know it's short, and I apologize-but it's the night before I leave for vacation and I had, had, had to give you guys SOMETHING before I left for five days, right? Let me know how it is…**


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: If some of you are worried about Derek's reaction then don't be, he's just in shock. Later, though, it'll start to sink in.**

**For all of them. **

Crouching beneath the Seattle Grace fruit cart when it was about to rain was not something Izzie Stevens did on a regular basis.

Lurking? Maybe. Eavesdropping? Definitely. But crouching? Crouching was what people did when they wanted to hide. Crouching was for people who weren't drop dead gorgeous; people who didn't put themselves through med school with modeling; people who weren't Izzie.

Yet here she was, the former centerfold queen, crouching beneath a _fruit cart_ and scrambling to catch syllables and vowels.

Mark, Derek, Meredith, and Christina where a few feet away and looking incredibly flustered-well, everyone but Christina, she had a prominent smirk etched across her lips-and that's what had first attracted Izzie to the potential hiding place. She had been walking through the double glass doors, pink thermos weaved underneath her fingers, her mouth already half open to complain about a particularly gruesome appendectomy that morning when she had spotted them at the other end of the quad.

The voices had grown steadily louder and she had heard Meredith begin to shout something at Mark, then Derek was the victim, then Christina started to laugh…

And that was when she realized how badly she needed to get a life.

Straightening to her full height, she flipped her hair over one shoulder and ignored the incredulous look that the fruit cart guy was throwing her way; making her way over to the group of socially inept adults. She buried her spoon into the strawberry yogurt that she had accidentally swiped from underneath the kiosk and simultaneously decided against wearing her hair down, instead pulling it up into a messy bun and sticking one of the many pens she kept in her pocket in to keep it up. She was almost there, just steps away from speaking, an arm's length away from where Christina was standing when a red-headed someone brushed past her.

Nobody noticed as she shrank back against the wall to watch, forgetting about her earlier fear of crouching and becoming a full-blown, no-joke wallflower.

"No," Mark was saying, "But when else are we going to tell her? When Hannah's thirty?"

Izzie coughed and held a fisted hand up to her mouth to stifle it. _This_ is what they were talking about? Meredith's worst nightmare and quite possibly the end of Seattle Grace as they knew it was happening and Izzie had just _happened_ to stumble in on it? This was definitely her lucky day.

"Possibly," Derek muttered to the ground.

Who said crouching was a bad thing?

--

"What's going on?" Addison asked, desperation creeping into her voice, "What about Hannah?"

"Wait a minute-are you sure you want to do this?" Meredith cut in anxiously, "I mean; do I really have to actually be here for this?"

"Can somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Addie," Mark began, "There's something I didn't tell you that I probably should have a while ago…"

Addison rolled her eyes. "I know that Meredith's been dating Derek, okay? I already-"

"Meredith is Hannah's mother," Mark blurted while Derek seemed to have just been hit with the realities of the situation.

"Derek, that was my shoe!" Meredith cried, horrified at the green-brown liquid dotting her converse, "Couldn't you have turned towards Mark?"

Derek looked like he might throw up again, so she stepped out of his way.

Addison wasn't saying anything.

"Christina, could you?" Meredith asked, motioning vaguely to the limp figure leaning heavily against the table that was Derek Shepherd. Christina looked disappointed but she dutifully looped one of her arms underneath his.

"You better not barf on me," she warned, "It's already happened once today."

Once they were gone, Meredith turned back to face her boyfriend's wife, only to be greeted with a hand connecting with her cheek, followed by a sharp jolt of pain. She stumbled and brought a hand up to cradle her stinging skin. A blonde appeared in front of her and she mentally thanked whatever had possessed Izzie to spy on her.

"What the hell are you doing? It's not her fault, it's _his_!" Izzie shouted, pointing at Mark, "_He's_ the one who got her pregnant and left!"

Addison's eyes were glazed, like she couldn't really figure out if she was awake, if she had really just slapped her husbands' mistress, and if her husbands' mistress was really the mother of _her _daughter.

"Addie, honey, don't you think you're overreacting?"

Her eyes widened, and suddenly she knew that she was awake, and that she had slapped Meredith, and that Meredith was Hannah's mother. She knew, like she knew that she was going back to New York as soon as this was over and taking Hannah with her; like she knew that she was going to slap Mark.

Christina winced and let out a low whistle of sympathy.

"Ow!" Mark yelled, while Addison admired the red blotch accenting his left cheek bone. She stared for a few seconds to make sure he was really hurting, and then, with a swift nod of self-appreciation, she stalked away.

After the she-shepherd had vanished into the hospital, Izzie turned to face Mark and Meredith, a frown splashed over her features.

"Was that really necessary?"

"I think so," Mark said, "She took it well."

"How could that have been worse?" Meredith protested, "We're in the middle of the hospital with everyone watching and she slapped both of us! I'm having trouble seeing your side here, Mark."

"She didn't kill us and bury our bodies in the woods," Mark argued, "I think that's something to be thankful for."

"I hardly think that's something to celebrate," she said before pausing, "It could still happen."

Mark shrugged, "But in the meantime you can practice your self-defense skills."

"Mark, shut the hell up. Mer, I'm telling Richard that you need the afternoon off. If he asks why, I'll tell him that you were dating Derek before Addison showed up and that you're Hannah's mother. That should be enough of an excuse."

Meredith nodded weakly and tried to fight off the tears that were threatening to fall. She, like Derek, was starting to feel the full effects of what had just happened. She barely noticed while Izzie slipped out the way the others had left, leaving her alone with the father of her child.

The thoughts wouldn't stop racing.

Mark was here. Derek knew. Addison knew. Hannah knew. Mark was _here_. Hannah was here. Derek was _married_.

"I think I need to sit down," she breathed, swaying a little, "Oh my God…Derek-and you-and Hannah….oh my God!"

"Breathe," Mark said, looking a little awkward as he brought a hand up to pat her on the back, "breathe."

"But-"

"Breathe."

"But-"

"Just take a goddamn breath!"

She took a breath.

"Good. Now let's just go over this again. Derek and you…" Mark prompted.

"Dated."

"Right. Derek and you….dated…for awhile. And you and I….dated….for awhile, too. And Addison and Derek…"

"Are married."

"Right. And Hannah and you and I…"

"Yeah."

"Wow," he said, letting out a long breath of his own and closing his eyes. He looked like he should have a cigarette in one hand, she thought.

He definitely looked like he needed one.

"Well, what the fuck are we going to do?"

She smiled fleetingly, realizing that there seemed to be an awful lot of swearing around Seattle Grace lately. She guessed that they were probably both reverting back to the way they spoke in high school-pretty soon they were going to be talking about blowing off the whole situation and going for a motorcycle tour of the city like they used to.

"That better be your 'oh my god this can't be happening, this has to be a really fucked-up dream' smile or else I may just have to strangle you," Mark warned.

"Weren't you the one who was cracking jokes like five minutes ago?" she shot back.

"That was five minutes ago, before we talked through it."

"You know, I've never willingly skipped work to do something else," she mused, "But I think now's the time to start."

"Mind if I tag along?"

She paused, leaning back in her chair and eyeing him suspiciously.

"You want to tag along?"

"Yeah, I mean, I don't know anyone and I sure as hell don't want to be stuck around here all day…"

She frowned, knowing full well that the answer coming out of her mouth in a few seconds would probably be a breathy 'yes' and that they would probably end up at Joe's, which meant a late, late night that would inevitably end up with her curled on the bathroom floor, hoping that she didn't just have sex with Mark Sloane, which would result in another trip to the pharmacy to pick up a pregnancy test a week later, which would make Derek more mad, which would-

And she really, _really_ needed to stop rambling in her head, it was starting to scare her.

**AN: Sorry, again, for the late update but in all honesty they probably won't be too close together anymore, considering I'm starting my first semester of college on August 30….AH!!!!! so yeah, busy stuff happening with that. Also I have to somehow come up with enough money to last me the whole year which could be difficult when I have a cushy job where I can come in whenever I want and I'm lazy….wow I'm really rambling now. But yeah, so it might be awhile. But I'm loving the reviews….they keep me writing!! So yeah, let me know all the things I'm doing wrong. **

**Thanks so much!!!!!!!!!**


	22. Chapter 22

Peanut shells.

They were hard and brown, strewn out in front of her glazed eyes, reminding her that she was still at Joe's, that she hadn't passed out yet, and, more importantly, that she hadn't decided to take Mark Sloane home with her yet. He was slouched over the counter on the stool next to hers, completely, undoubtedly wasted. There was no one here that would recognize them, thank God, and she was beginning to think that this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"So are we any closer to heading back to your place?" Mark asked.

"Nope," she said, tilting her glass so that the tequila nearly ended up decorating the counter.

"Damn," he muttered, and gestured for Joe to give him another, "What do you think Addison and Derek are doing right now?"

"Ugh," she groaned, cradling her head in her hands, "you don't seriously expect us to have a conversation about _them_ do you?"

"To tell you the truth, I didn't expect you to be sitting here with me at all."

She gulped back a retort, instead closing her eyes to keep the room from spinning and responding in a slightly slurred but completely calm voice, "Well, at least I haven't slapped you yet."

He laughed, a deep, growl of a laugh that sent a shiver through her, "Don't you remember Mer? You _did_ slap me-nine years ago."

"Pfft," she said, "You would have done the same thing if you were me."

_She was still locked in the room, on the phone with Addison. He wasn't sure why it was taking this long-to him, all she had to do was ask if Addison was trustworthy and that was that. But an hour? That was borderline obsession, wasn't it? Didn't she trust him enough not to hand t__heir kid off to someone unsafe? _

_The frustration was starting to sink in; both at her and the guilt that was still steadily eating away at his conscience. It built gradually as he sat on her couch, in her house, in her city, waiting for her to come back down. He began to wonder if she was even still alive. _

_Slowly, as if she would come barreling at him from behind the closed door, he __plodded his way up the stairs, pausing at the last step, directly below her door. He heard her muffled voice through the wood, __and her heavy footsteps as she paced back and forth. _

_With a deep, measured breath, he pushed open the door. _

_She was cradling the phone in one hand, the other entangled in her hair. She had kicked off her shoes and discarded her socks and was now barefoot, the floor beneath her creaking with each step she made. When she noticed him, the phone nearly dropped from her grip._

_"I-I understand," she stuttered, recovering from his sudden reappearance, "__I know this is a big step, I just want to make sure-"_

_She paused, listening to Addison's reply and avoiding his gaze._

_"I just don't know if I'm ready to make that kind of commitment, I mean…this is my kid, a while down the road I may want to see her, or talk to her…"_

_Another pause._

_"I understand," she repeated, "But I need a few days. This is a lot to deal with right now and-" another pause, "Okay. Sounds good; you'll hear from me soon."_

_With a click, she hung up and turned to face him._

_"What?"_

_"You've been up here over an hour I thought-"_

_"You thought what?" she asked, cold seeping into her voice. _

_He pursed his lips, "I thought that you were going to tell them you wanted to keep the baby."_

_She frowned, "And yo__u'd __u disapprove of that-right?"_

_"Meredith, they've waited for a long time for this…"_

_"They just got married! You said so yourself and already they're having problems?"_

_"But if you _knew_ them, Mer, then you'd know that-"_

_"Mark! This is not about them! This is about you and me, and dealing with this."_

_"Me? What do I have to do with this?"_

_She crossed the room, and raised her arm to meet the side of his face. Her face was twisted with anger, her eyes__ were__ wide __as he winced and stepped backward. _

_"You-" her voice wavered, "You have _everything_ to do with this. You don't get to dump all this on me and pretend like you're doing me a huge favor by finding these strangers to take my kid. This is _our_ problem, not mine, and you don't get to push your way back into my life and try to convince me that you__'__r__e__making a big sacrifice to help me. You're not. This is the very _least_ you could do."_

_He was quiet for a moment, letting the heat from her words sink in. _

_"You said 'my kid'," he said finally, once it was clear that she had said everything she'd needed to say._

_"Excuse me?" she bit back._

_"You said 'my kid'. It's our kid."_

_As soon as the words had left his mouth, he knew that he had made a mistake. Her expression darkened and, while the sting from the first slap had begun to fade, another replaced it. __When her arm dropped back to her side, his cheek had a hand imprinted on it in red. _

_"Don't you _dare_ try to convince me that you are still the father. As far as I'm concerned? You gave up those responsibilities as soon as you stopped talking to me."_

_"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"_

_"Don't __start__ make excuses again," she said, the fire gone from her words and replaced with exhaustion, "I've heard enough of those."_

He had left her house after that, leaving quietly from the way he had come.

"I wouldn't have slapped me twice," he said, "I think once was enough to get your message across."

"Mhmm."

"You know, you were very….grown up then."

"I slapped you," she mumbled.

"Yeah, but…I deserved to be slapped. And you weren't afraid to let me know that I was being an ass."

Meredith frowned at the new shot glass Joe had set in front of her. A question had been gnawing at her, a question that would answer so many other speculations about that day, the day that she decided to give her daughter up. She was certainly drunk enough to ask it by now, and by the looks of it-so was he.

"Did you-" five shots and she was still having trouble spitting the words out, "Did you love her? When you asked me to give Hannah up, did you already love her?"

He closed his eyes, like he was immersed in a memory, absently bringing his drink to his lips.

"I was infatuated with her. It was years later that I realized that I was in love with her. And even more years before I made the incredibly stupid decision to make a move on her behind my best friend's back."

"So you regret it."

"Yes and no. If I hadn't, then I wouldn't be sitting here with you now."

She smiled, "You know I'm not going home with you, right?"

He grinned back.

**AN: Again- so **_**so**_** sorry it's taken this long to get this up (is this becoming a pattern?). you guys have been great, though, and I really appreciate all the amazing reviews I've been getting. Thanks so much!!**


	23. Chapter 23

Derek was still with Christina in one of the empty patient rooms on the floor, breathing into a paper bag like Meredith had once done in the supply closet. Christina had been alternating between looking genuinely concerned and rolling her eyes, a fact that hadn't gone unnoticed by her brain surgeon patient.

"If you want to leave, then leave."

She looked mildly relieved for a moment before her eyes raked over his frame, her expression darkening with each wrinkle in his button down shirt.

"And let you stay here alone? Meredith would kill me."

"You obviously don't want to be here and Meredith probably doesn't care if I die from shock so why not?"

She folded her arms across her chest.

"It is my professional duty as a doctor to stay in this room."

"But Mer-"

"Stop! I'm not here to argue, I'm here to make sure you don't have a heart attack or throw up or something, okay? So leave me alone and stay above the freaking trash."

He shrunk back like a chastised child and dutifully leaned over the garbage.

"I can't believe she slept with Mark," he groaned.

"That's all you can think about? What happened nine years ago? Do yourself a favor- stop freaking out about Sloane and focus on why you didn't know she was Hannah's mother."

He was quiet for a moment, letting her words sink in. His expression flitted from thoughtful to contemplative.

"So this means I can murder Mark?"

"No."

"Well what the hell do you want me to do? Both my girlfriend and my wife have slept with my best friend, are you telling me that I should sit back and watch everything blow up in my face?"

"It already has," Christina quipped with a brief, tight-lipped smile, "and if I were you, I'd talk to Sloane. Ask him what happened. Considering the fact that Meredith won't talk to you, I'd say he's your best bet."

"But Meredith-"

"Go talk to him," she repeated, throwing him a glare.

"But I don't know where he is and…" he trailed off, his shoulders shrugging with indifference.

"He was your best friend, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

"But-"

She raised an eyebrow, "Do you want to argue with me? We could be here all day."

He slumped.

"Christina, I…I don't know if I can handle this."

Her eyes softened and her voice dropped an octave, "you'll figure it out."

He didn't even notice how uncharacteristically warm the hand covering his forearm was, all he could think about was what he would say when, inevitably, he'd have to talk to his best friend.

--

A thin layer of smoke was covering nearly everything in the packed bar. He could barely see; his vision was clouded with gray and his eyes had started to sting.

Emerald City was filled with noise- the sharp crack of an eight ball as it collided with the side of a pool table, the hyena laugh coming from the corner where a redhead was backed up against the wall by a tattooed man in a wife beater, the swish of alcohol running down throats, the click of stilettos as they hit the floor, the soft white noise of conversation as it flitted from person to person.

He straightened the collar of his blood red shirt-the shirt he'd worn when he first met Meredith- and glanced around the familiar surroundings for an equally familiar face. Christina had advised him to see Mark, to actually _talk_ to him about everything that had happened.

She expected him to have a civilized conversation with him.

Gulping down a wave of nausea, he took in a deep breath of lethal air before moving to survey the stools. They were all occupied, mostly by lonely people who were already well on their way to intoxication, lonely people who had all accumulated a large number of glass shot glasses despite how early it was. An aching memory tore at him, a memory that involved him and her and this bar, at these stools, with him in his red shirt and her in a small black dress that left just enough to the imagination…

_"I'm just a girl,"_

She had said.

_"I'm just a guy,"_

He had said, in a voice that he remembered being proud of.

He could hear her soft giggle, and could see her hand as she brought it up to her mouth to stifle a laugh. He saw her flip her hair over one shoulder and lean closer to him, so close that he could smell her lavender hair. Then, almost as if he was still remembering, he really did hear her soft giggle, and he really did smell her lavender hair. Running a hand through his own nearly-black hair, he looked up, not entirely surprised to see dirty blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail, her alabaster hands gripping a shot of tequila. Instinctively, he smiled, forgetting exactly why he was here. Just the sight of her, in the place where they'd met was enough to lift him out of whatever mood he'd been in. Just the sight of her happy was enough to make him forget.

Then he saw the man who was making her giggle, the man who was making her throw her head back with laughter.

Derek's expression twisted into something hurt and jealous; the same expression that he'd worn after he'd discovered a worn leather jacket hanging up in his entryway in Manhattan. He could hear a rush of blood ringing in his ears and he was vaguely aware of his nails as they dug into his palms. They both stopped grinning at each other as soon as they noticed him, just like when he'd walked in on Mark on top of his wife in his bed.

Except this time it was somehow worse.

"Derek," she breathed, her face flushing with something close to shame, "you're here."

He didn't say anything.

"Derek, we weren't-"

She didn't know why she was trying to explain. After all, hadn't he been the one to pull the plug on their relationship?

Mark stood up, his entire frame leaning heavily against the bar to keep from falling over.

"Derek, we were just talking-"

The air, if possible, became even more difficult to breathe in. Derek felt like he'd just donated blood; that faint, weak feeling that gripped at you from the inside out.

Turning towards the door, he was faintly aware of her calling his name but all he could concentrate on was getting out, on breathing, because that simple function was becoming increasingly difficult to do.

Fresh air hit him as soon as he fell through the door.

"I don't want to hear it," he managed to choke out once he realized that Meredith had followed him.

"We were just talking.

She was slurring.

"Like we did my first night in Seattle?"

Hurt etched its way onto her features.

"That was different. I didn't know you."

"And you know Mark?"

Knowing that he wouldn't like her answer, she dropped her eyes to the floor and mumbled a small, "Yes."

He let out a laugh, "Really? Because I heard that he left you pregnant in high school and offered your baby to Addison and I."

"That was nine years ago, Derek!"

"And he still did something horrible! How can you just sit there and let him use you again?"

"Use me? How the hell is he going to use me? He already has everything he's always wanted-he has Addison and Hannah."

Derek shrunk back like he'd been slapped.

"Addison doesn't want a divorce," he said shakily, like he was convincing himself, "If Mark has her than why doesn't she want a divorce?"

"You'll have to ask her," she said, the slur still evident in her voice.

Mark appeared behind Meredith, barely able to stand.

"She's scared," he called over Meredith's shoulder, "She's scared to leave you for something she's not sure will work."

Seeing them standing together, if not actually _together_and knowing that Mark was right about Addison was enough for something inside Derek to snap. He could see Mark with both of them, he could see himself being turned into some kind of sloppy seconds, could see Meredith being with him just because Mark couldn't be with her.

He saw Mark winning both of the women in his life, saw him making Hannah laugh with an arm loosely slung over Addison's shoulders and Meredith with a sly smile on her lips off to his right, looking up at Mark adoringly. He saw his life being snatched away by his best friend.

Next thing he knew, he was barreling towards a drunk Mark Sloane in front of Meredith on a deserted street in the middle of Seattle. It was a scene that mirrored what had already happened earlier in the Seattle Grace cafeteria.

A few months ago, he would never have believed that this is where he'd end up; two fights with Mark in the same day.

**AN: Why the hell are these taking so long for me to write? **

**Thanks again for the reviews…they're pretty much amazing!**


	24. Chapter 24

It had started to rain.

Sheets were falling so hard that he couldn't see Meredith, only the dark figure who was hitting him, over and over, so hard that he could barely breathe. He tasted blood, but he didn't have enough energy to wonder about what was bleeding. He heard Meredith screaming above the rain, high screeches of protest as the dark figure's breath got more and more shallow, so shallow that if Mark could get up, he'd probably be able to overtake him. With a grunt of effort he tried to push off his opponent, but it was useless, his arms just fell back to rest weakly on the ground. She was crying now, desperate sobs as it grew colder and darker and wetter; as his vision slowly faded into black.

Derek, noticing Mark's eyelids slide closed, stumbled back and nearly ran into Meredith as she frantically tried to reach Mark, still slightly tipsy from tequila. Derek watched while she sank down to cradle Mark's head in her lap, as she shot him a glare filled with disappointment and concern. Tracks of tears were mingling with rain and mud on her face and her eyes were bloodshot from alcohol. She sniffled and brought a hand up to wipe her nose as the other traced the bruises already forming on Mark's face.

"What the hell did you do Derek," she mumbled in between sobs, "what the _hell _did you do?"

He shook his head slowly and frowned, like he couldn't understand what she was saying.

"Is he…is he okay?"

"He's breathing, if that's what you mean," she snapped, and then, realizing that she'd need his help, calmed down enough to ask, "Can you help me take him to Seattle Grace?"

He nodded, feeling more and more numb with each passing second. Then, stepping forward and looping one of his arms through Mark's while Meredith did the same, he started to drag his ex-best friend to the hospital.

They walked painfully slow, so slow that what should have been a two minute walk took them nearly fifteen minutes. Meredith was nearly hysterical by the time they reached the sliding glass doors.

"If he doesn't wake up…I swear to god I will kill you Derek Shepherd. Do you hear me? I will _kill you_."

Derek nodded weakly, looking as if the gravity of what had just happened was sinking in.

"Oh god," he murmured, "What about Hannah?"

They were dragging him into an empty room, and Derek looked like he was about to keel over with regret.

"I don't know," she said once they had set him down on the paper white sheets, "Hand me that thread."

Her voice was scratched with emotion as he handed over the jet black thread that was resting on a nearby cart. He clicked on a light to shine in Mark's eyes. At least his pupils dilated. Meredith looked like she was about to burst into tears again and the fact that he was still unconscious was not helping her nerves. Her hands, however, remained still until she tied off his stitches and started to tend to his other injuries.

"You're a freaking brain surgeon," she said, after bandaging a particularly gruesome cut, "can't you do something?"

"He doesn't have a concussion or anything," Derek assured, "he'll be fine. All he needs is time to recover."

"How long will his face look like this?"

"A couple weeks. Mer," he said, "he'll be _fine_."

"No thanks to you."

He sighed, "I'm sorry. But after everything that's happened this year I just…cracked. It won't happen again."

Sniffling again, she nodded, "It better not."

He laid a gentle hand on hers but she shrugged off his touch.

"He'll be alright," Derek insisted, almost as if he was convincing himself, letting his fall back to his side limply.

--

"Where's Dad?"

"I don't know, sweetie," Addison said for the hundredth time, "Now can you _please_ get ready for bed?"

She'd never really connected with Hannah, at least not in the same sense as Derek had. There was always something missing, some part of Hannah that Addison had never really reached. They loved each other-that much was clear- but they both knew that Addison was more of a stepmother to Hannah. Hannah obeyed her, for the most part, except tonight, when Derek still hadn't shown up as he'd promised he would.

"Dad isn't here yet," Hannah said, as if that explained everything, "He said he'd be here before I went to bed."

"I don't know where your father is but it's late. You can't stay up forever, Hannah."

"I know but-"

"No buts. Go brush your teeth and put on your pajamas."

Hannah folded her arms across her chest defiantly.

"I bet Meredith would let me stay up for Dad," she mumbled.

Addison stopped flicking through the pages of People and looked up over her reading glasses.

"What did you just say?" she asked.

"I said, 'I bet Meredith would let me stay up for Dad'."

"Meredith isn't here," Addison said coldly, "And I don't want to hear anything like that from you again."

"You're not my mother," Hannah shot back, instantly regretting her words as she saw her adoptive mother's face crumple with hurt, "I mean-"

"I know exactly what you meant. Go brush your teeth and put on your pajamas," she repeated, pushing her glasses back up her nose and actively ignoring her daughter. Hannah dutifully shrunk off towards the bathroom, if only to avoid the tense silence that had followed her words. Once Hannah was gone, Addison reached across the bed to pick up the hotel phone, automatically punching the familiar numbers to her husband's phone.

--

Meredith had finished stitching Mark and was now perched on a metal chair next to his bed, clutching one of his hands as if that was the only thing keeping him alive. She was biting her lip, her brow furrowed with concern, focusing all of her attention on the unconscious man in the bed.

"Do you think we should throw some water on his face or something?" Derek asked timidly, momentarily forgetting who he was.

"I'm the intern, you're the surgeon," she snapped, then softened as her gaze drifted back down to Mark, "How the hell am I supposed to think about playing doctor while he's in this hospital bed because of you?"

Shepherd shifted awkwardly on his feet, not bothering to answer her. He knew her well enough to know that she wasn't expecting one. The silence was broken by his phone, the bleeping ringtone filling the room and making Meredith jump in surprise. He pulled out his phone from the pocket of his perfectly worn out jeans and pressed it to his ear.

"Addie?"

Meredith cocked her head in interest.

"No, I don't-look, Addison…there was an accident."

Meredith scoffed.

"Just get down here, okay? I think you'll want to be here. Bring Hannah."

He ended the call.

"So she's coming," Meredith said.

"She's coming."

"Great. Now not only do I have to worry about the father of my kid, I also have to worry about making small talk with your wife."

"Stop picking a fight," Derek growled, "We both have things we're pissed about but now is not the time to deal with them."

"Fine," she said, crossing her arms over her chest, "But that doesn't mean that I'll talk to you."

"Thank God," he mumbled, but looked appropriately humble as she shot him a steely glare, "did I mention you look pretty?"

She sighed, uncrossing her arms and letting them fall limply to her sides, "You and Mark are way too much alike for your own good."

"Why do you think I punched him in the first place?"

**AN: I know, I know, some readers are throwing tomatoes at me right now. Sorry about the lack of updates, but again, I can't promise that they'll be any better in the coming weeks. I'm just starting college, so actually, the updates might get even fewer. But, because I like to write, I'll do my best in giving you more chapters sooner. Thank you so much for all your AMAZING reviews (déjà vu?) and keep 'em coming!**


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: I actually have no idea who the pairing is. I know I originally said ****MerDer**** but, as usual with my stories, ****it started to veer off in a different direction then I originally thought****. So I ****don't ****know who's going to end up with ****who****. I'm really sorry for all those crossing their fingers for ****MerDer**** but there's still hope****-****I have a lot of chapters to write still. ****Enjoy!!**

The hospital seemed oddly deserted when Addison entered the lobby in her pink silk pajamas with a sleepy nine-year old at her side- like people had decided to take a night off fatal injuries in honor of whatever mysterious accident had happened to Derek. One of the janitors was mopping up the floor that lead to the Psychiatric ward but apart from that there was no one in sight but a nurse in purplee- patterned scrubs hunched over papers at her desk in the lobby.

The lack of sick people was actually making the whole situation more nerve-wracking then it should have been, so nerve-wracking that Addison gripped Hannah's hand tighter to control a shiver of worry from cracking her poker face.

"Are you sure that Dad didn't say anything else?" her daughter asked for the third time, glancing up at the red head with uncharacteristically wide eyes.

"I'm sure," Addison said, smiling briefly to assure Hannah that everything was fine, "it's probably nothing."

They reached the nurse's station, and Addison rested her elbows on the desk as if this were any other day at the office.

"I'm looking for my husband."

The nurse didn't even look up from the patient's chart she was bent over, "Room 2213."

Addison frowned, but let out a small, "thank you," despite another pang of nervousness. They took the stairs even though Addison was wearing heels and Hannah was still wearing slippers- it seemed silly to take the elevator for one floor.

"Do you think Dad's hurt?" Hannah asked while they climbed.

"No, sweetie. He would have told us."

Even while the words were passing her lips Addison thought they sounded weak and flat, but Hannah nodded and pulled her coat closer, like she was desperate to believe anything that would push away the dark thoughts threatening to take over. They reached the second floor and Addison held open the door for her daughter.

Starting down the hallway, heels clicking cautiously on the tiled floor, the blonde girl's hand nudged its way into her mother's, and Addison had to fight to keep the tears back.

Just an hour ago, her daughter had reminded her that she wasn't a mother, and now they were holding hands.

The door was open when they reached it, although the scene didn't register all at once for Addie; it came in fragments.

First came the intern, crying on one side of a hospital bed. Then her husband, Derek, leaning against the far wall (she felt a stab of relief at seeing his curly hair resting on a row of cabinets instead of a hospital pillow), looking as if he was carrying the world on his shoulders. Then, lastly, the figure lying on the hospital bed.

He was barely recognizable, his handsome face covered with bruises and scars, but it took her less than a few seconds for it to sink in. Her mouth fell open, and she heard Hannah's cry of horror from behind her.

Derek and Meredith seemed to be having the same problem that she was- not entirely believing that this was really happening. Meredith didn't move from the chair by the bed and Derek just stood there with a dazed look on his face.

"Derek, what…" she began, but found the sting of tears coming hard and fast before she could finish. She took a step forward into the room, leaving Hannah to linger by herself at the doorway.

He stepped forward too, his face twisted with something close to regret.

"Addie-"

"You-you did this?" she choked out, understanding instantly. Her hand groped for something to hold her steady but came back with air.

"It was an accident," he mumbled, feeling the burn of Meredith's glare, "I didn't mean to-"

They all heard the steady beep from Mark's heart monitor while they each tried to fight for words. Hannah crept forward to stand across from Meredith by Mark's side, laying a comparatively small hand on his.

"Well aren't you the happy family," Addison muttered bitterly before turning to her husband, "is this why you pummeled him, Derek?"

"Addie, don't," Derek warned.

"We're not seeing each other," Meredith cut in defensively, "although frankly, I don't see why that would be a problem."

"Not a problem? _Not a problem?_ Do you realize how twisted that would be?" Addison shrieked while Derek just looked nauseous.

"I've already slept with him."

"Yeah, nine years ago! But after everything that's happened-"

"Mark's in the hospital, can we focus on that?" Derek pleaded.

"Mark is in the hospital," Addison argued in a dangerously low voice, "because you put him here. Don't use him as an excuse to stop me from letting Meredith know how much of a slut she is!"

"Addison!"

"_Excuse _me? How am I a slut?"

"Are you really going to make me go through all the reasons?"

"How about we don't have this conversation in front of a nine year old, okay?" Derek said.

"I think this is a perfect conversation for a nine year old actually. Do you know what she said to me today?"

"No. And I don't really want to know right now, while _Mark is in the hospital."_

" Because you put him here."

"Does anyone else think we're talking in circles?" Meredith asked.

Silence fell again, until Hannah dragged a chair over from the corner of the room and the screech of metal on tile jolted the adults out of whatever trance they had been in.

"Hannah…"

The girl pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on top of them.

"Can't you make him wake up?" she asked in a soft, small voice, and it was unclear exactly who she was talking to.

Derek looked away and Addison knelt down to look Hannah in the eye, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face.

"We're doing everything we can, baby," she promised.

"Like yelling at dad and Meredith?"

Addison sighed.

"I'm sorry."

"I want him to wake up," Hannah murmured, side-stepping her mother's apology and shaking off her touch, "I didn't even know he was here-he didn't even come to see me…"

"I'm sure he wanted to-"Meredith started to say but was cut short by a particularly lethal glare from her boyfriend's wife, "never mind."

Inching closer to Mark, Hannah was beginning to look closer and closer to tears.

"Look, he's going to be okay," Derek said, desperate to stop his daughter's tears.

"How can you say that?" Addison argued.

"Because I'm a doctor, Addie, and you are too. You know the injuries are only superficial."

"Still….."

"Addison," he said, walking up to her and resting his hands on her shoulders to force her to look at him, "He's going to be okay."

Meredith, who had been watching them, dropped her gaze back down to the hospital blankets.

She felt like she was intruding on something personal, like she wasn't supposed to be here. These people had all spent the last nine years together and what had she been there for? The last three days? She didn't even know Mark anymore, and yet here she was next to him, waiting for him to wake up like she hadn't played a role in his being here. Backing away from the bed, she ignored Hannah's frown of confusion and bypassed the oblivious couple in the center of the room to disappear out the door.


	26. Chapter 26

The lights seemed somehow brighter now that she was out of Mark's room, a fact that was amplified by the deserted hallways and the strangely silent rooms.

A hospital was supposed to be full of noise, even if it wasn't always pleasant. Soft crying, jarring screams, whispers behind closed doors; that was what a hospital was supposed to sound like.

A hospital was supposed to be inhaling suffering and exhaling some form of closure. But tonight was different. Tonight, it was like the hospital had stopped breathing altogether. For some reason an awful, deafening silence had fallen over everything and the floors were glittering and spotless. For some reason the delicate balance that Seattle Grace prided itself on had been broken.

It had to be a dream, some terrifying dream where everything was muffled and nothing was real, where she was alone and nobody noticed. It had to be, or else her world was really collapsing, and there really was no one there to catch her when she fell.

She could hear a faint voice calling someone else's name. A name that was vaguely familiar…

"Dr. Grey?... Dr. Grey?"

She stumbled closer to the wall and leant against it, breathing through her mouth. The voice sounded like it had been calling the vaguely familiar name for awhile. She closed her eyes and saw a dark-haired stranger sitting next to her in a bar.

"Meredith? Are you okay?"

A different voice, one that was softer, more understanding. She screwed her eyes tighter and saw the dark-haired stranger brushing back a lock of fiery red hair with a noticeable glimmer of metal on the ring finger of his left hand. Meredith's eyes snapped open.

Inches away from her face, a blonde girl jumped.

"Jesus, you scared me," Izzie said, clutching at her heart with her right hand, "Where were you just then?"

She frowned and her eyes slipped closed again, "I'm a little dizzy…"

"Come here." arms gently helped her into a leather-covered chair with wheels, "Now can you tell me what happened? I heard a little about Mark from the nurse…is he okay?"

"I don't know," Meredith mumbled. Izzie started to push her down the hall.

"What do you mean you don't know? Weren't you just in there?"

Picking invisible lint off of her coat, Meredith refused to look away from the floor, "They were busy."

Izzie stopped wheeling and knelt to her friend's level.

"You're the mother of his kid, I'm sure they weren't too busy for you."

"Well it's not like they pushed me out or anything…."

Izzie frowned.

"Then why are you out here and not in there?"

Meredith sniffled.

"They're having a moment."

Izzie's face fell.

"You mean Derek and Addison?"

Meredith pulled her coat tighter and nodded, wishing someone would dim the lights.

"Shit," Izzie muttered, "Mer, I'm sure it wasn't anything. And even if it was, they were married for twelve years-"

"They're _still_ married."

Izzie continued as if she hadn't heard an interruption, "so he's obviously got some leftover feelings, I mean, those things don't just go away. But he loved you, so don't freak out about something small."

The doors swept by, and Meredith was beginning to slip into a place between awake and sleep. 2210, 2211, 2212…She forgot that she was in a wheelchair in a hospital, her clothes stained with red and bags under her eyes; she forgot that she was recovering from the impact the two men in her life had just made, again, on her present mental condition.

Her eyes were closed when the chair stopped in front of a door and the blonde who had been pushing her knocked. She heard whispers, and it made her feel more at home. She was in a hospital, and there were whispers behind closed doors-a small piece of her normal was falling back into place. But then the whispers started to grow louder.

"You want me to act like she didn't screw both my husband _and_ his best friend, which probably caused this stupid fight in the first place?"

"Addison, God, she's the mother of our child-"

"Who you screwed, Derek. I'm sorry that I'm not exactly jumping up and down at the fact that she's here."

Meredith stirred, her eyes opening in a squint as she waited for them to accept her into the room again.

"So? My mistake shouldn't cost her the right to be there when Mark wakes up."

That word, twisting in her stomach like plane food- _mistake_. She held the back of her hand up to her lips, willing the bile back down her throat. Derek glanced over his wife's shoulder, as if realizing that she was there. His eyebrows connected painfully as he continued to stare at the blonde in the chair.

"Why should she have that right in the first place?"

He didn't answer, focusing solely on his unspoken apology to Meredith.

"Come on, you guys," Izzie broke in shakily, sneaking glances at the furious redhead, "She just wants to be here when he wakes up without you guys being all…together."

Addison's face reddened, her eyes widening to a frightening size, "Are you _serious_? Are you fucking _kidding_ me?"

"Addison!" Derek chastised, "Now is _not_ the time to be doing this."

Her face melted, immediately thinking of her daughter.

"Hannah, I'm sorry…that-that wasn't a nice thing to say."

The nine-year olds eyes' narrowed, "You haven't said anything nice to Meredith since we got here."

A half-smile of triumph from the woman in the wheelchair. Addison's face scrunched into a brief stab of hurt before melting back into her usual cool acceptance.

"That's true. I haven't," she breathed after a short pause, "I haven't said anything nice to Meredith since we got here."

Somehow, the statement came out as another shot at the blonde. Derek looked nervous, and Izzie gave a clipped nod of recognition, although she knew, like everyone else in the room, that it was not meant to be a regret. The room fell silent and the tension mounted. Simply for something to do, Meredith awkwardly wheeled herself past Izzie, Derek, and Addison and up to the side of Mark's bed, making no move to raise herself out of the chair.

She felt tears pricking at her eyes again, and she choked back yet another sob. Seeing him lying there, in a _hospital _gown of all things made the need to empty the contents of her stomach into the trashcan in the corner all too real. Reaching out, she gripped his hand, shuttering in surprise when she felt him give her a small squeeze. With a quick look to his face, she caught his eyelids fluttering open and the lazy smile that graced his face when he saw that it was her. She smiled back, wiping at her tears with her free hand and letting out a little hiccup of self-conscious laughter. Both Addison and Derek made a move towards Mark's bed but Izzie, for a reason even she couldn't comprehend, held them back.

Meredith, the weight that was resting on her shoulders less than fifteen minutes ago completely gone, was floating. Surprisingly, he was too.

"You're here," he mumbled, sounding like he'd been through a bar fight. Then he noticed her choice of transportation, "are you okay?"

"I just was a little overwhelmed," she explained, waving away his concern, "and what, you think I'd leave you with the guy who put you here?"

Addison and Derek exchanged pointed looks while Mark chuckled, giving way seconds later to a grimace of pain. He clutched at his ribs.

"Sorry," Meredith muttered humbly, "Wasn't thinking."

"S'okay," he assured, his eyes closing heavily, one of them already black and swollen. His hand tightened around hers, unaware of Derek's increasingly dark glare.

"I'm glad you're awake," she said, and it was like they were back in high school again. He smiled again, eyes still shut with what she assumed to be exhaustion, "Do you want me to go?"

Her voice was small and soft. He shook his head.

"Stay," he rasped, "I'm just…"

He trailed off, and when she extracted her hand from his, she was met with little resistance; he was sleeping. Pulled from her teenage world, she straightened and looked over at Hannah.

"He'll be fine," she promised, and Hannah nodded, throwing a brief but genuine smile across the room at her biological mother.

At the doorway, it was the Shepherd's turn to feel like they were intruding on some deeply personal moment.

**AN: College sucks!!! I have like, a billion trillion tons of homework every day and like no time for my own stories! ****Which is why it's been like half a year since I last updated.****Which I'm sorry about.**** Still review though****cuz**** they really do help. ****Oh, and I really don't want to make Addison out to be all catty and stuff but I guess that's how it ended up. I actually really like her!**


	27. Chapter 27

It had been three days since Mark was admitted to Seattle Grace. The injuries, like Derek had said, were only superficial. They were painful, and it made Mark look like a walking Frankenstein, but he was okay. He had been released 24 hours after he had been admitted and was now staying in a hotel a couple of blocks away from the hospital, wishing he was closer to Addison and Meredith, two women who were both simultaneously blurring the lines between friendship and something more, and both women who he wouldn't mind taking into one of the on-call rooms at Seattle Grace during his shift.

He wrapped a towel loosely around his waist and started to clear off the hotel bathroom mirror with the back of his hand. The reflection returning his stare was not the playboy he had once known, and it was starting to make him uncomfortable. The bruise circling his eye had swollen to twice its normal size and there were two cuts on his chest that were stitched together; at some point in the fight Derek must have given so many blows that Mark's skin split.

Running a skilled finger over the black thread, he let the haze from the shower curl up and around his figure until a knock interrupted his meticulous inspection.

Letting out a low sigh, he took one last look in the mirror before opening the door and padding out into the room.

"You," he said once the room door was open, not entirely believing that she was here, in his hotel room, "I thought you'd be at the hospital, or," he gulped back jealousy, "with Derek."

"I was. I'm not."

"Oh."

He held the door open for her.

"I don't really know why I'm here," she mumbled, following him as he walked away from the door.

At this point, he was just grateful that one of them had found her way to him, despite the slightly disconcerting fact that she looked overwhelmed, lost, and more than a little confused.

He'd take what he could get.

"Want dinner? I can order room service if you want-"

"I'm okay."

Her eyes swept over the picture-perfect painting hanging over the bed and the mini-fridge in the corner.

"I'm just going to go-"he motioned to the bathroom, "change."

She frowned, as if just noticing that he was only wearing a towel.

"O-okay," she managed to stammer out in spite of her nervousness. Not two hours earlier, Derek had invited her over to his trailer in the middle of nowhere-the exact opposite of their brownstone back in New York, and she had turned him down. Addison Montgomery had rejected her husband in order to gawk awkwardly at a nearly-naked Mark Sloane in a hotel that was probably costing a regular apartments' rent for a month.

The alcohol behind the mini-fridge that had caught her eye was calling her name. She imagined the little neat bottles of assorted liquor resting a few feet away from her, and seconds after imagining them, she was already screwing off the top of the champagne and tipping it back for a long swallow. Pulling herself to her feet, she set the container down on the cabinet nearest to her, letting her eyes flutter shut with exhaustion and unbelievable relief. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a drink.

"Starting without me?"

Jumping at his voice, her hand brushed the top of the bottle, sending it hurdling towards the floor. He smirked and she frowned. The liquid melted into the cream-colored carpet.

"I don't even know why I'm here."

"I do. You, like most women, find it impossible to resist me."

"Do you always have to be so egotistical?" she snapped. It was his turn to frown.

"Don't scowl at me," she continued, "you'll rip your stitches."

"How else am I supposed to express my mood?"

"Write a book. I'm sure it will be extremely insightful and beneficial to young women across the country."

He took a few steps towards her and she gulped back a flood of familiar, unidentifiable emotion. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the obvious tension between them.

"I'm sure it will be extremely insightful and beneficial to _you_."

He was a foot away and leaning in, and she couldn't help leaning in, too, and closing her eyes.

--

Meredith was not entirely sure where she was.

It was somewhere in downtown Seattle, with hotels, restaurants, and a hell of a lot of traffic. She couldn't really remember why she'd left the house in the first place, only that she had started thinking about everything that had happened in the last week and somehow, an hour later, she'd ended up here, with the space needle on the horizon and her house far behind her. Her credit card was calling from the brown purse nestled in the front seat, and she smiled slyly at the thought of an entire afternoon of shopping. She had never enjoyed the thought of watching her money slip away from her in the past, but for some reason, today seemed like a good day to treat herself; she was, after all, gathering the courage to confront two of the most important men in her life. Didn't she deserve a little pre-confrontational pampering?

If she was truly honest with herself, then she would admit that she still had no idea which one to choose. She was hoping that Addison would just pick which one she wanted and then she could pick up the sloppy seconds. But that would be unethical, and would most likely gather unwanted attention from the Seattle Grace gossip mill. Earlier that morning she had tried a different approach- imagining her life ten, twenty, thirty years from now, trying to see the man she would wake up to in her made-up world. It would have worked, too, if only she had been able to make out the facial features on her perfect man. Sometimes she wished she had more of an imagination.

Spotting a road-side J-Crew next to a Starbucks, she pulled into the nearest parking garage. For a few hours, she decided, she would forget about her two beautiful soul-mates (yes, they were both her soul-mates, she was sure) and only think of three-quarter length sleeves and coffee. Smiling to herself, she breathed through the glass doors of her favorite store, and went straight for the rack holding an eggplant-purple shirt that would go perfectly with her favorite pair of low-rise jeans.

She frowned half an hour later, glancing through the dressing-room mirror at the shirt that had been so perfect on the rack, and wasn't so perfect on. Brushing away an uncomfortable thought, she turned sideways and put one hand in front of her stomach and another on her back, just to make sure.

Maybe, just maybe, _im_perfect was what she needed. Maybe she was looking so hard to find the perfect shirt for her, and so worried about picking the wrong one, that she was ignoring the most important detail.

If _she_ wasn't perfect, than why was she searching for the perfect shirt? What she really needed, what she was trying so hard to push out of her psyche, was that it wasn't about what was the better shirt, it was about what she was the most comfortable with, what she wouldn't mind wearing day after day after day.

What she _needed_ was imperfection, and maybe, just maybe, the imperfect guy was waiting next to her ratty, old, imperfect Dartmouth shirt, ready to start their imperfect life.

**AN: So what's it been….****6 months****Longe****r?**** Yeah. So this story has kind ****of been on hiatus. And I've forgotten about it. I'm sorry, but yeah. I really didn't know where I was going with it and needed a little break. But now I'm back! So hopefully I'll finish it this time. As you can hopefully tell, this story is going to be wrapped up fairly soon. I just have to get in all the Hannah stuff and work out all the drama that I've created. Sorry it's so choppy, still trying to get into the writing groove... Hope you enjoy!!**


	28. Chapter 28

Her eyes were closed and she was tilting her head upward.

He was watching her, transfixed by everything that made up Addison Montgomery-but totally and completely wishing she were someone else; more specifically someone who had blonde hair, gray eyes, and had known him since high school, someone less….perfect, who was quite possibly just as dark and emotionally unavailable as he was.

He pulled back and gently tucked a strand of Addison's fiery red hair behind her ear. Stooping to her level, down on his knees, he breathed in an encouraging breath before lightly calling her name.

Her eyelids fluttered open, her expression flickering between confusion and hurt. Almost seconds later she had already guessed the reason for his hesitation and was pulling her hands out of his.

"Meredith," she said, more like a statement than a question.

"Meredith," he parroted back, and they both knew that whatever had been between Addison and Mark in the past was now over. Addison knew she'd go back to her husband, in his trailer, just like she knew that whatever feelings she'd had for Mark would eventually shimmer away with the knowledge of his current emotional soul mate. Unlike Meredith, the unconscious reason she had ended up on Mark's doorstep was because she did _not _want to be another woman's sloppy seconds. With Mark, at least the original fling with her competition had been nine years earlier. With Derek, the betrayal had been disturbingly recent.

With Mark's rejection came a sort of clarity for her. Although Mark's physical relationship with Meredith had ended their senior year in high school, his emotional own with her had lasted nearly a decade. There was no way for her to compete with that, no matter how close she and Mark had become throughout their years in New York.

"I suppose I have to leave now, huh," she muttered, feeling oddly nauseated at the thought of going to the trailer, where her husband was hopefully waiting for her and not chasing after the blonde that had stolen both of her men's hearts. The man in front of her was strangely more of a comfort than her husband. With Mark, there was no expectation to keep their relationship going, no underlying pressure that came along with marriage. Mark remained silent.

"Are you going to go see her?"

"If she's not with Derek."

They both cringed, nearly simultaneously, and Addison brought a hand up to suppress a giggle while Mark grinned.

"Look at us," he remarked coyly, "the cliché best friends who tried to be something more."

She laughed again, and rose to her full height.

"We're going to have to avoid picnic get-together's with the four of us for at least a year," Addison joked.

"You're not up for a four-some?" he teased back, "never would have guessed."

He was walking her to the door, and her expression turned worried, an expression that did not grace Addison Montgomery's face often.

"What if they don't want us?" she asked, biting her lower lip while her eyebrows knit together, "What if while I want Derek and you want Meredith, they really want each other?"

He'd thought of that.

"Then we become old, lonely people who meet singles over the internet and occasionally look to each other for the comfort of a satisfying one-night stand."

A very real concern lay underneath his external flippancy and he briefly allowed himself to wonder-not for the first time-what would happen if the one woman he wanted didn't want him.

--

The woman in question, sucking caffeine through a straw in an isolated corner of Starbucks, ignoring the guy who was subtly checking her out from a few tables away, was deliberately avoiding. She knew the man that she wanted to live with, eventually marry and (provided she didn't spend any more time in OB/GYN) have kids with, so now all that was left was telling both Derek and Mark. But, despite how necessary that confession was, she was putting it off, like most of Meredith Grey's life-altering problems; like when she gave Hannah up for adoption, or when she decided to say 'yes' to Mark freshman year, or when she decided not to buy the eggplant-purple shirt that had looked so perfect on the J-Crew rack. The naïve man from a couple of tables away was getting up and making his way over to Meredith who was now playing a solo game of napkin-hockey, squinting at the white paper solely for the sake of procrastination.

"I couldn't help but notice-"

"I have two boyfriends and a nine-year-old daughter," she calmly dictated, without looking up. He lingered for a few moments before realizing that she wasn't going to respond to his advances, no matter what clever pick-up line he had up his sleeve. A hasty goodbye left her once again to her impromptu game. Once he had left, though, the aspiration to play was gone, and she threw what was left of her white chocolate mocha into the nearest trashcan on her way out the door.

In ten minutes she was pulling out of the parking garage she had entered two hours earlier, taking off with a purpose despite her overwhelming need to turn around and see if the Starbucks guy was still interested. Crushing the impulse, she glanced through her rearview mirror at the space needle on the horizon, wishing she could drive until she forgot all of the drama that had happened since nine years ago, senior prom.

When she pulled up to his current living arrangement, the sun had already begun to go down and she was having increasingly serious doubts about how crucial this conversation really was. Couldn't she just dump both of them and find a nice veterinarian to settle down with?

Outside his door, she raised her fist up half-heartedly, fully intending to withdraw it within seconds. But, before she could return her confused appendage to her side, the door swung open and a dark-haired ex-lover appeared. He seemed as surprised as she was at her appearance here, of all places, and stepped aside to allow her to pass him into the trailer. She took a deep breath, letting her shoulders rise along with her chest.

"Derek," she greeted.

"Meredith," he greeted back, his blue eyes sparkling with something unreadable, "Hannah's out back, if you want to-"

"I'm not here to see her," she interrupted hastily, before frantically trying to recover once she saw Derek's face twist into apprehension, "I mean….I'm not here to see _only_ her. Look, Derek, we need to talk."

He nodded, looking out through the window over the sink, "she should be back inside soon…"

"Okay, I'll try to go somewhat fast, then. So," she blew out her cheeks and mentally prepared herself, "Derek, I don't know how to say this…"

He leaned against the counter, his lips upturned at one side, obviously amused with her discomfort. She gulped back regret, "Derek, I can't see you anymore."

His face fell, the half-smile completely gone.

"I'm in love with Mark, and I guess I didn't really want to admit it until now, because I didn't want to give you up-because I really like you-and I may have been falling in love with you, but I was thinking back to high school and Hannah and everything Mark and I had before I got pregnant-"

"He left you, Mer, he left you when you were pregnant and you needed him the most! What if he does it again? Meredith, the only reason he's pretending to be interested in you is because you and I were together!"

"He loves me!" she argued.

"No, he doesn't Mer, and I won't be there when you finally figure that out," he was inches away from her, now, his eyes glowing with jealousy and something else that she couldn't quite place. It took her a few seconds to realize that it was relief, a small pinprick of relief that both hurt and reassured her.

"I don't really care if he loves me," she said, recognizing it as the truth as soon as it was out, "but Mark is not the perfect guy, and I'm not the perfect girl, so we fit. Whether or not he wants me is what I'll figure out. You're too perfect for me, Der," her voice had gotten softer, gentler.

"I'm not," he insisted, shaking his head. The relief was gone, replaced with a kind of desperation; he was getting dangerously close to crying, and it was freaking her out. She wished the relief would make a reappearance, despite how much it would hurt, "I'm just as screwed up as you are. I've been hurt, too, and I can prove that I'm good for you-"

"It's not that easy. You have a wife and a daughter-"

"_You're_ daughter, Meredith, and what could be _our _life. Give us a chance-you know we could be happy-"

She hesitated-this was harder than she thought. Before she could respond, though, the backdoor of the trailer slammed, and Hannah was looking back and forth between them.

"Are you here for dad?" she asked, a hint of happiness underlying her words.

Derek and Meredith exchanged a quick glance before Derek brought a hand up to wipe at his mouth, breaking her stare to look down at the floor.

"Yeah, sweetie, I'm here for your dad," Meredith answered, refusing to tear her eyes away from Derek, "I'll just-can I come back later, Derek?"

"We should figure this out now," he said in a strange violation of character. Usually, they were both the ones who procrastinated until confrontation was absolutely necessary. Now, he was insisting that she stay. She nodded, and then all three fell silent, waiting for someone to once again start up the conversation that would change their lives.

**AN: I'm on a roll!! ****Yay****- two chapters in like two days.**** That's exciting. X-****Mas**** break is awesome!!! Keep reviewing!!**

**P.S. This is almost done, I promise. **

**P.S.S.**** I understand that it's a little out of Derek's character to be so confused and to beg Meredith to get back with him. But, for the sake of this story, we'll bend his character a little. After all, Meredith does sound pretty sure of herself when she's declaring her love for Mark so he's probably a little pissed off and realizes that he needs to win her back ****because she really is serious about Mark. So he steps it up. **

**P.S.S.S. notice the difference between Addison/ Mark and Derek/Meredith**** pairings****- DM have like an insane amount of drama while AM have virtually none; I find that a little funny, how the two 'couples'**** are so different when they 'break up'. **


	29. Chapter 29

"So you're choosing Mark," he stated petulantly, apparently not processing the fact that his daughter was, in fact, in the room.

"What?" Hannah asked, confused, "Choosing Mark for what?"

"I'm choosing Mark," she answered, ignoring Hannah's question and looking boldly at Derek to reiterate just how sure she was.

"Choosing Mark for what?" the nine-year-old repeated.

"I'm choosing Mark over your dad, Hannah," Meredith explained, swallowing the gulp of realization that they were both, in their own ways, Hannah's father, "to be with."

Derek cut in, "And what if I don't want this to happen?"

Hannah frowned and looked meaningfully at her father, trust begging to flitter away with his cold, decisive need to hang on to his mistress, "You don't want to stay with Mom?"

Her question was innocent, the articulation of the little-girl hope that her parents would one day get back together. Derek, feeling a flush of shame dot his cheekbones, couldn't meet his daughter's eyes, let alone answer her shy appeal.

Meredith sucked in a shaky breath, immediately siding with Hannah, willing him to stop pressuring her into being with him, "We wouldn't last, Derek. Mark and I will work, and not that I couldn't make it work with you, but it would take a little more effort on both our parts. You have to know that something about us isn't right."

"It was right for a while," he argued, still verbally refusing to let Meredith leave, although they both knew that the other wasn't entirely happy.

"Derek, Hannah wants her _parents_, not me. I was never her mother. Yes, for awhile we worked, but you were hiding stuff, and when that came out, we fell apart. If you don't want to acknowledge the fact that I love Mark, than at least acknowledge that Hannah needs you as a dad, and Addison as a mom," she stopped to breathe before adding one last note as a whisper to herself, "anything else is way too confusing to figure out."

He was silent for moment, drinking in what she had said, and staring at his daughter. Hannah, to her credit, was wearing her most heartbreakingly hopeful facial expression in the hopes of swaying her father's mind.

He sighed.

"I'll talk to the chief," he relented, grudgingly, looking back and forth between them before settling on the oldest, "if I'm going to move on from you, Meredith Grey, I shouldn't do it in Seattle."

Hannah grinned and launched herself at Derek, wrapping him in a tight hug. He half-smiled over her shoulder at the blonde who was feeling increasingly intrusive.

"Mind if I just-" she motioned to the door and he nodded softly, watching her back as she disappeared.

Her keys were looped around one of her fingers as she pushed open the door and ran a hand simultaneously through her hair. She took one last look through the window once she had stepped off the pseudo-porch and onto the expansive lawn towards her car, smiling at Derek, who was bringing two fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose in a characteristic Dr. Shepherd gesture.

She was going to miss him.

She ducked behind her hair to hide her stubborn tears, nearly jumping at the sad eyes that met her own when she glanced back up. Addison Montgomery was standing a few feet away, furrowing her brow at the skinny blonde in front of her.

"Did you….did you and Derek-"

The New-Yorker looked so sad, so resigned to the fact that her husband would never find his way back to her that Meredith Grey was reassured that she had made the right choice.

"I broke it off," she explained, "not that we were still together but-"

"Thank you," Addison breathed, tears welling in her eyes as she followed Meredith's gaze to the half-open window.

"You should go," the intern mumbled to the surgeon, brushing past her former rival in a desperate attempt to reach her car before she started to cry.

"Mark's at your house; or at least he went there looking for you…"

Meredith nodded, letting her lips upturn in a brief, sad smile before unlocking the door to her rented Saturn.

--

Pulling up to her illuminated house, she hesitated climbing out of the driver's seat after turning the engine off. Mark's car was in the driveway and was presumably waiting for her inside, waiting for her to take one incredibly-out-of-character leap into the unknown.

She drew in a shaky breath, simultaneously trying to calm herself from her emotionally-draining confrontation with Derek and get ready for a hopefully worthwhile confrontation with her other favorite ex. After three minutes that seemed to drag on forever, she pulled her keys out of the ignition and opened the door.

The walk up her front porch steps took longer than it should have. Her feet dragged underneath her and her movements were sluggish as she reached for the handle of her childhood home.

It wasn't that she was worried about making the wrong decision-she had never been more sure of anything in her life- it was that she was going to have to put herself out there, line herself up against the man who had dumped her senior year when he had found out she was pregnant. What if he didn't want her? What if her being pregnant had allowed him a convenient out?

The door opened before she could get up the courage to perform the simple twist. The man she had mistaken for Derek on her first day as an intern was staring back at her when she looked up. Now, months later, she had expected him to be Mark.

"Is he here?"

George nodded briefly, stepping aside so that she could pass him. He was sitting on her living room couch with a beer in one hand, watching a football game on her T.V. She laughed, feeling the tension from minutes ago slip away as she looked at Mark Sloane, who seemed to be at home here, in the house where they had many of their firsts. He was wearing a stunningly similar leather jacket to the one he had worn in high school, and she had to clear her head of the idea that he was the same man now, nine years later. Unwrapping her scarf from around her neck, she sank onto the couch next to him. He silently offered her his Heineken and she gratefully accepted, tipping back ice-cold alcohol to calm her jumpy nerves.

"Who's playing?" she asked, mentally berating herself for ignoring the more important issue. He turned to her, like he knew that she was practicing her usual strategy of avoidance.

"Where you at Derek's?" he countered, practicing his own usual strategy of getting everything out in the open before things reached an uncomfortable level of awkwardness.

"Yes,"

"Ah," he said, grabbing his beer back and returning to the game, "Cowboys against Colts."

"Ah."

The seconds ticked by, and Meredith could sense George listening from the kitchen.

_Rip the band-aid_.

"I'm in love with you," she blurted, half-surprised at how easy it was to let those simple words slip. A noticeable crash came from the general direction of the kitchen, which they both ignored. The silence was overwhelming, despite the background grunts coming from the blue- and- white-clad football players on the thirty-two- inch screen.

Mark seemed to be processing the words slower than it took Meredith to let them out.

"You're supposed to say something back," she prompted, nervous, "something like, 'oh, I've been waiting for you to say that-I love you, too' or 'oh. That's cool'."

He let out a short bark of a laugh and tore his gaze away from the game.

"I assume you didn't go to Derek's to reprise your role as a dirty mistress?"

"I did not."

"In that case-" he hesitated, for dramatic effect, "Oh, I've been waiting for you to say that-I love you, too."

She smiled, and she was still smiling when he leaned in to kiss her seconds later. Another crash came from the kitchen, and they broke away. His blue eyes fluttered into view as they both slowly regained their bearings. He frowned and leaned in again.

"One sec," she promised; a finger to his mouth.

"You didn't interrupt the first time we heard a suspicious noise come from the kitchen," Mark mumbled as she turned away from him, a smile still playing on her lips.

She was back in less than a minute.

"He shouldn't be bothering again," she announced lightly, reclaiming her spot on the couch, this time closer to him.

"What'd you do to him?"

"Threatened his current living arrangements," she shrugged, "So…where is this going?"

Her question was tentative, and he reached for the remote in note of her solemn tone. The picture on the screen cut out and he turned to her, once again.

"I can tell this will take my full attention," he explained to her incredulous look, "what do you mean?"

"I mean…you live in New York. You've loved Addison for years, you rival Derek with everything, and we have a _kid_…need I go on?"

He sighed, "You needn't.

"First and foremost, I'm over Addison. I guess I've been over her for awhile- ever since we slept together. Once it actually happened it was somehow a little less than pining after her for all those years had hinted at. As for Derek-yes. I enjoy taking back something that was-or is-mine. But as twisted as this whole situation is, I already hurt him as much as I possibly could by sleeping with Addison. He was married to her for twelve _years_…it's not like he can just get over that. With you, no offense, the relationship was over in, what? Two months?"

She frowned, but he either ignored it or didn't notice.

"New York is up in the air. I know you're doing your internship here, and I don't want to make you move. Chief said he might let me stay on past my trial period but I'll have to see. Finally, Hannah. We have a kid-most couples do. Granted, our situation is a little more…complicated. But if you want, I'm sure that Addison and Derek will let us visit her. I mean, they let _me_ see her, why wouldn't they let you? Out of the two of us, you've committed fewer felonies, so…"

She laughed, "You haven't seen me for a while…you sure I'm still behind?"

"I'm pretty confident."

She sobered, bringing the conversation subtly back to them.

"You've been thinking about this for awhile, haven't you?"

He shrugged, suddenly looking a little embarrassed, "I've kept my options open."

She laughed again, and he couldn't remember why he had even wanted Addison in the first place. Her laughter died a few seconds later.

"Derek said he would have to move back to New York; to get over me," she picked at her sweater, not entirely sure how Mark would react to the fact that Derek needed to get over her. But, to her surprise, he hooked thumb and forefinger under her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his.

"If you had turned me down, I would have said the same thing," he assured sincerely.

"I'm going to miss him," she admitted, bringing her legs up to rest on the couch beside her. His fingers left her chin, and she found herself wishing that they hadn't.

"I will, too; if I stay."

She sighed, and her head drooped to rest on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her hair, and in that moment, she was reassured, once again, that she had made the right choice.

"This time, if I get pregnant, you will _not_ be leaving without saying goodbye. I require a voicemail, at the very least," she joked, voice muffled by his shirt.

He laughed, and his chest rumbled underneath her as she flipped around to straddle him, hair framing her face as she leaned down to give him an open-mouth kiss. His laughter faded as one of her hands entangled in his hair and the other reached for the hem of his shirt.

"What about George?" he managed between breaths and kisses, struggling to think through the fog of Grey.

"Gone," she said, "at Burke's for the night."

"Good," he sighed, flipping her again so that he was hovering over her, pulling at her lavender sweater.

**AN: as you can see, the pairings are now set. I'm sorry for all the ****MerDer**** people who ****thought**** this was a ****MerDer****fic****…I'm as surprised as you, honestly. There should be at least one more chapter as an ****epilogue,**** and maybe one in****-**** between to figure out how Addie and Derek are going to work out there problems. ****Review, as usual!!**


	30. Chapter 30

**AN: Yeah, yeah, it's been forever. ****But seriously-school?**** Not ****as easy as it sounds. Good news-**** It's the end!!! Yes, you read the last sentence right. One thing you need to know before you read, though…**

**Habeas Corpus- the right of someone to know what crime they committed.**

**Can you tell that I'm simultaneously studying for my mid-term in Law?**

**I hope you enjoy!!!!! Leave reviews please!! I like to know what it's like as a whole and stuff so push that purple button as if your life depended on it!!**

"But Derek and Addison are gonna be here soon," Meredith whined, a curling iron entangled in her hair while she struggled to put on an open-toe, black high- heel, "I don't have time for a quickie."

Mark frowned to the mirror from behind her, slipping his arms around her waist while he dipped down for her neck, "I'm sure they'll understand."

She slapped his hand away, the ring on her left hand glinting under the overhead light, "You do know that last week was the end of the whole honeymoon phase, right?"

"Never," he murmured, gripping her hips tighter and letting out a low growl.

Ten minutes later, the bell rang and the Shepherd's stood side-by-side on the other side of the apartment door, an identical frown gracing each face.

"What happened to your hand?" Addison asked, before stepping past him in search of the other Sloane. Mark winced, cradling the injury.

"She burned me with a curling iron."

Derek let out a bark of unrestrained laughter, before covering it with a cough and frowning in mock-concern, "What did you do?"

He shrugged, "Distracted her, I guess. I'm a little fuzzy on the details."

"What, you guys don't have the whole habeas corpus thing?"

"Apparently it ended after the honeymoon."

Meredith breezed in a few minutes later, with both shoes on and a head full of successfully curled hair.

"Hi, guys," she said, chewing the gum currently lodged in her mouth and turning to her newly-appointed husband, "Have you seen my purse?"

"Is this how it's going to be for the rest of our lives? You burning me with a curling iron before demanding your purse? Because frankly-"

"Shush, I'm trying to concentrate."

A low whistle escaped from the dark-haired Shepherd on the couch, "Whew. Have I ever told you how much I love you, Addie?"

She raised a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow, "What did I say about comparing me to Meredith?"

"I thought it didn't count if you came out on top."

"Well it does. You ready, Mer?"

"Yep," the blonde answered, proudly displaying the matching black purse swinging on her forefinger, "How long do we get to party?"

"The babysitter's staying overnight," Addison gushed, clearly ecstatic. Meredith grinned again, playfully linking her arm with Mark's as they followed their friends out the door.

"Oh, good. Last time I had to walk home drunk with Mark because you guys had to take off early," her face scrunched together from the effort of remembering, "that took forever. At least an hour."

Mark grinned as his eyes steadily lost focus, "yeah…"

After successfully securing a much-sought-after cab, the conversation tripped over everything from married life to surgeries. The ride was filled with stories of Hannah's newest creation in school and abnormally grotesque cases they'd each taken recently, all four relishing in the rare night out.

"So this one guy came into the ER today because he wanted a fork removed. He _sat_ on it while his wife was trying to seduce him..."

"Some people's wives actually seduce their husbands, Mer," Mark grumbled from the back of the cab while Meredith fixed him with a glare from the front.

"Yeah, well I had a craniotomy today-"

"Craniotomy, shmatiotomy. We've heard it all before. Hannah tried to build a rocket for school today-"

"Tried?" Mark asked, confused.

"Yeah, unfortunately we can't go out on the deck anymore-there's a hole in the floor."

"Damn… But I performed a sex-change operation yesterday, so I beat all of you."

"I still think the guy with the fork in his ass is the best."

"You would."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Four years later, things were nearly the same as the way they had started the night Meredith and Mark finally realized what it was they really wanted. Of course, the location had changed-they were now living in Manhattan in an apartment that was relatively close to Addison and Derek's. Meredith had transferred to a the same New York hospital that Mark was head of plastics at, completing her residency one fascinating year after another, and they were both entrusted with Hannah at least once a week for babysitting.

Derek leant back and let a slow, satisfied smile creep up his cheeks and light his eyes. This, right here, was why he loved nights in New York. Three of his best friends cramped into a cab together for a late night dinner and a movie at the theater that only showed the classics, and then, for the best part, coming home to the Shepherd brownstone to kiss his daughter goodnight and slip into hazy dreams with Addison. This, right here, was how he knew that Meredith and Mark were perfect for each other and that Addison and himself were the same. Red hair belonged with brown, and the dirty blondes would always be the unconquerable dirty mistresses.

**AN**** 2: don't be too harsh- this is a chapter done in like ten minutes because I just wanted to get it over with. And it is!!! Yeah!!! **

**P.S. thanks for all the amazingly fantastic reviews!!!!**


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